by Sara Clancy
Olga and Petya had never relinquished their grip on Aleksandr. Not because they viewed him as a threat. Aleksandr was useful. He took care of the kids and lugged bodies about. He was an amusement, someone they could torment when no one else was on hand. And, perhaps most importantly, he submitted and kept his mouth shut. Because of this, Aleksandr never had the opportunity to practice living as someone else like his siblings had. That had been a point of terror when he and his siblings had first set out into the world. He was sure Radmiar would see right through it and show up on their doorstep. For a year, he had waited every second for that fatal tap on his shoulder. Or for his coworkers to grow suspicious and call the police. Now, at last, his fear had become reality and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Alex Cooper. Mooresville, Alabama. Father of twins. Ian and Natasha. Alex.
“Cooper!”
Dan’s sharp voice made him jolt and he snapped his head up, fingers still playing with his cuffs. The room service office was tiny and on the edges of the kitchen. After all the tables, computers, stock, and files were put in, there was about the length and width of a king-sized bed left over for walking space. For some reason, the architects had put a drive-thru style window in the wall that separated the office from the wide walkway where they kept all the serving trays lined up and ready to go.
Dan was leaning his head through the small gap, far too wide to fit much more of his body through, and clicked his fingers to draw Aleksandr’s attention.
“Hey, Alex, over here. Got your attention yet?”
Aleksandr smiled. “Not all of it.”
While he rolled his eyes, Dan did look somewhat amused. “Great. Have I got enough of it for you to do what we pay you for?”
“That depends,” Aleksandr said as he crossed the distance. “Can I half ass it?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t care.”
Leaning one shoulder against the side of the wall, his smile grew. “Right. So, I’m guessing room 3622 called in an order?”
“And demanded that I send my prettiest server,” Dan said, looking torn between finding the client disgusting and hilarious. “Remember to bat your eyelashes, Cooper.”
Remembering a second later that Alex wouldn’t take the intended insult, no matter how playful, in silence, he replied, “Is this because I’m short?”
“It’s more because you have a resting murder face.”
His stomach dropped. “Huh?”
Dan laughed. “You know, like resting bitch face?”
Aleksandr racked his brain but couldn’t come up with anything. Growing up without any human contact, beyond his immediate family or the people who were their murder victims, had left Aleksandr with gaps in information. Little things like speech patterns and standard body language. It’s why he had picked Mooresville, Alabama for his fake home. All he had to do was mention that the town had a population of under a hundred people and people normally let a lot of weirdness go, deciding that a small country boy was bound to be out of it.
Dan laughed louder and shook his head. “Resting bitch face. It’s when someone looks like they’re angry even when they aren’t doing anything. It’s just their face. You, my friend, have a resting murder face. You’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but you always look you want to stab someone.”
“How great for me,” Aleksandr mumbled.
“Well, it’ll hopefully work to get room 3622 to back off. Just go and do that squinty thing with your eyes. Yeah, that thing.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Aleksandr protested.
Dan’s smile turned smug. “Perfect.”
Pulling back into the office, he slid the drive-thru window closed and ducked out of sight. Aleksandr released a long, slow sigh and finally read over the sheet. The wait-staff used a special shorthand, which gave him the perfect excuse to ask about any words he didn’t know. This was a basic order, however. Something obviously thrown out there as an excuse to get one of the girls to his room. A bottle of champagne and some chocolate dipped strawberries.
All alcoholic drinks had to be accounted for, so he headed to the bar area and handed the sheet over to the night staff rather than try and read out the brand name. While they worked, Aleksandr strummed his hands on the countertop, noticing the bottle opener on the other side of the counter. It was the Swiss army style, with more options than just the corkscrew. Earlier, he had rejected the idea of taking a knife with him. Too much risk, he had decided. If the security team found him with it, they wouldn’t buy the excuse that he had forgotten it in the small pockets of his vest. One solid strike and the sharp edge could lodge in my stomach. But a corkscrew. That would be both useful and plausible for him to have. Casting a quick look around to make sure he didn’t have anyone’s attention, he jumped up slightly, laying over the countertop as he snatched up the weapon. There was just enough time to shove it into his pocket before the bartender returned.
Neither one of them was big on idle conversation, and so he was able to get away rather quickly. Soon enough, Aleksandr was weaving his way around the hidden staff corridors. It was a maze. With long stretches of barren hallways leaving a few areas marked with doors. There was a distinct absence of windows, signs, or markings that could give a hint of what was on the other side. Time, practice, and dedication had allowed him to get a decent handle on the layout. He walked quickly and made it through the hallways at a rapid pace. Every so often, he checked his phone. The twins sent him texts, mostly bickering about the other one or whatever movie they were watching. It always made him smile.
Soon enough, he was opening the doorway and stepping out onto the 36th floor. Aleksandr paused midstride to look around. Standing at the center of a T-intersection, he was surrounded by three long, empty hallways. Silence. No murmur of TVs. No conversations drifting through the walls. No one came out or was working their way back to the room. Aleksandr knew that it wasn’t entirely a strange situation, but he was already on edge and he wasn’t quite able to push the sensation aside. He checked the three directions again and found them still empty. A part of him took comfort in that. Even if there were someone waiting around the corner, there would be plenty of time for him to notice them before they were close enough to do anything. However, knowing that anyone could be hiding behind the doors, waiting for him to pass, kept him from relaxing.
Patting his pocket to reassure himself that the corkscrew was still there, he set off to the right. A full bottle of champagne and a metal tray can do some damage too, he reminded himself. Alert, not afraid. The carpet smothered his footsteps as he moved, reducing them to a whispered shuffle. Overhead lights blazed, chasing off shadows, the straight lines leaving only the rooms to hide in. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone there. His skin prickled with the sensation of being watched. He kept to the center of the corridor.
A sharp series of beeps made him jump. He grabbed his phone, both to silence the sound and to check the next text. The phone buzzed in his palm, clearing his mind enough to realize that it was an incoming call. Evelyn.
He didn’t have to say anything. She started talking the moment he answered the call, fast enough that he missed a few words in the short amount of time it took to get the phone to his ear. He caught on soon enough.
“You didn’t see their face?” he asked, balancing the tray with one hand and clutching his mobile phone with the other.
“Seriously?” The small speaker struggled to keep up with her increasingly rapid pace. “Remember how I know what your brother looks like? If I had positively identified him, don’t you think I would have lead with that? I’m not trying to annoy you. This isn’t a dramatic reveal. So, no, I didn’t see his damn face, Aleksandr.”
He paused at the chastising tone, not exactly sure how to respond to it. Not that he needed to. It seemed that, when excited, she lost all need to breathe.
“You need to calm down,” he said, not sure that she’d even heard him.
She did. Because she switched to Spanish. He’d only
ever heard her do it once before and that was when she was cussing out his parents, trying to prod them into killing her quick.
“I don’t know Spanish.” He had to remind her a few times before she heard him.
The abrupt silence made his stomach drop. Paranoia twitched along the edges of his mind and he looked around himself once again. The hall was still silent. Abandoned.
“Right,” she said, her voice tense but in unmistakable English. “I’ve switched rooms. I’m going to dump my bag and check in with my dad.”
“Are you sure?”
“My dad’s going to want to see the room. If he doesn’t, he’s going to get worried and call the cops. We can’t have them interfering yet or your siblings will scatter, and we’ll lose our chance. I’m not going to be dumb about it. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. Who do you trust on the security team? I’m going to ask for an escort up. I figured that Vera and Vlas should be deterred by that, yeah?”
“Yeah, that should work.” Aleksandr shifted through his thoughts, trying to remember who of the more physically imposing boys were on shift tonight. He gave her a few names to pick from and she repeated them back.
“What do you want me to do with the twins?” she asked.
Aleksandr’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t call them first?”
“No,” she said slowly. “They’re kids and I’m not an idiot.”
“And they’re not delicate,” he countered. “But they are on their own.”
“Right. Well, it still seems like we should have a plan before we bring them in on it,” she said, somewhat defensively.
“There’s nowhere safer for them than at ...” his words died off as a door halfway down the corridor popped open.
Without a single sound to compete against it, Aleksandr could distinctly hear the soft whisper of the door sliding against the carpet. His fingers tightened around his phone and his muscles twitched, caught between fight and flight. Evelyn didn’t utter a word. There was only silence. Then, soft and sharp, there was the squeak of rubber. Like someone dragging their fingers against a balloon. He took a step backwards, knees trembling slightly as fear rattled his bones. Air pulled out of the room until he couldn’t draw a proper breath.
His parents had loved to celebrate things, but even this they couldn’t leave untwisted. Every holiday and milestone had been marked with blood and agony. Decorations had become a warning sign. An omen. A threat. The high-pitched squeal of rubber on skin cut through the silence. Louder. Closer. He stepped back, heart rattling around his chest as if it were hollow. Adrenaline flooded his veins as movement entered his vision. Bumping against the ceiling, a single, clear balloon floated out of the room. As if by an invisible hand, it traveled out into the middle of the corridor, dripping blood onto the carpet. Each drop landed with a slight thud that made him flinch.
“The Furies are here,” he whispered into the phone.
Her response was instant. “Where are you?”
“Get the twins out of here,” he corrected as he backed up, keeping his pace slow and steady, not wanted to provoke the unseen creature.
“I’m on it.”
There was a burst of movement on the other end of the phone line, but Aleksandr barely noticed it. His attention was on the balloon. It spun in place, never rising or falling, completely unaffected by the push of the air conditioner. Crimson liquid trailed down the single, silver thread attached to the knot. It remained perfectly straight. Something’s holding it in place, a voice in his head whispered.
“Alek?”
“They’ll know the rendezvous place,” he assured, eyes still locked on the single decoration. Childhood fears raged within him as he took a final step back and reentered the intersection. “I’m going to run for my life now.”
“Good luck with the cardio,” she replied before swearing in Spanish. “Sorry, it’s just the ‘feeding off fear’ thing. I thought a joke–”
“No, I got it,” Aleksandr said.
Every muscle in his body tensed as anxiety built inside of him. He didn’t want to hang up. Right now, he was on the edge of a storm. It was coming for him. It would have him soon but right now, in this moment, he had some illusion of safety. That it might pass by with only a bitter rain. He knew the Fury was toying with him. Waiting with an anticipation of its own for what was to come. The moment he hung up, the game would start.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
“You too.”
In one motion, he dropped the tray, grabbing the neck of the champagne bottle as it fell, hung up the phone, and bolted to the side. He was already a few rooms down before the tray clattered against the ground. One sharp crack and then the silence returned. Nothing but his thudding feet and the slosh of the champagne as he pumped his arms. He might not be able to hear it, but he felt it. The air thickened and chilled and there was an unmistakable sensation that there was something behind him. Following. Closing in no matter how fast he pushed himself. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and slowing down to wait for the elevator was no longer an option.
Racing past them, he sprinted down the long stretch of empty corridor and almost lost his footing as he rounded a corner. A bit further and the sound of a party pushed onto the edges of his hearing. A ballroom was situated on the far side of the hotel. It had been booked out by a group wanting to give their daughter an extravagant 21st birthday. By the sounds of it, the party was in full swing. The promise of a crowd spurred him on. The air was heavy. Breathing was impossible, and his lungs burned like embers within his chest. He didn’t dare look behind him. Didn’t want to see what was there.
The double doors came into view, sound pulsing and light flicking through the cracks. Aleksandr didn’t slow down to get through. Just slammed his shoulder into the jamb and stumbled slightly as the doors cracked open. Instantly, his senses were bombarded. Flashing lights blinding him as the scent of alcohol and sweat filled his nose. The air-conditioner wasn’t able to compete against the sheer number of bodies, and sticky humidity that filled the enclosed space. In a flash, he was back in the desert, the ghost town, surrounded by burning sand and rotting corpses. He blinked rapidly, pushing the memories away as he shoved his way into the writhing crowd.
It was impossible to move without bumping into someone. They had to be well beyond fire safety numbers. Every move resulted in a spilt drink, but no one seemed bothered by it, having grown used to the bodies crushing them. Aleksandr set his focus onto the back wall. To the hidden entrance for the staff hallways. Get out! The words screamed in his head as he moved, followed closely by another warning. Keep them distracted until the twins are out!
Half way across the room, he blinked, and the crush of flesh pressing against him was gone. Thrown off balance by the sudden open space, Aleksandr staggered a few feet, desperately searching everywhere. Confetti fell all around him, gathering on his shoulders and sticking to his hair. They flipped past the flashing lights, creating a tapestry of color and shadows. He squinted through it. The room was empty. Not a single piece of tinsel fell upon another body. There was only him left.
The music continued to pulse, the beat pounding against his sternum like a physical blow. The strike radiated throughout his body. Rattled in his joints. The vibration slowed his steps, reducing his run into a wobbling walk. He spun around trying to see every inch of the huge ballroom at once. The decorations continued to fall, the clutter punctuated by toppling balloons that momentarily blocked out large chunks of his sight. The inflated rubber bounced against his feet as he walked, warping his staggering steps all the more. In the world of vibrant, gleaming color, the white figure stood out like an exposed bone.
Aleksandr locked his gaze onto the far corner of the room, where the shape crouched behind the rainbow rain. It was impossible to see it all at once through the haze. Realization came to him in fractured pieces. It was human in shape. But huge. Larger than a bull. Its face was long and distorted, its mouth gaping open in a silent scream. On all fours, it
twisted around to look at him. Aleksandr couldn’t see its face in full, but he felt the weight of its gaze. Knew it was staring at him. Felt its rage. Its disgust and fury.
It tilted its head and crawled towards him, moving faster than its limbs should allow, a blur of color amongst the falling confetti. Aleksandr turned and sprinted for the door. Already, the monster was right behind him. He could feel it closing in. The weight of its presence pressing against his back. Its hatred for him filling the air with an eclectic charge. It’s not real. It’s not real! he repeated in his head. It’s only strong if you fear it.
That knowledge did little to calm the terror rampaging through his body. Hot, rancid air pressed against his back of his neck. Balloons and hunks of plastic whirled around his feet, stirred into a flurry by the huge beast right behind him. Aleksandr threw himself at the double doors, still clinging to the promise in his head that he wasn’t afraid. He had braced for the first blow of the doors, but hitting the concrete floor beyond knocked the wind out of him. Curling into a protective ball, he endured the flurry of thuds that battered him. Don’t be afraid!
Noise snapped him back into reality. A thousand voices joined the bass of the song; conversations and laughter and a name being repeated with increasing demand. Aleksandr flung his eyes open, already scrambling further away from the door as he tried to catch sight of the ivory monstrosity. There was just enough time to glimpse angry, confused faces before the double doors swung shut and cut off his view of the ballroom. They muffled the sound somewhat. Enough that he could hear his panted breaths and the same voice repeating that name.