Hunters & Collectors

by M. Suddain

  Unbelievable. He was calling me a gypsy.

  ‘Her parents were Andovan. But they never travelled, as such. She was born in the mountains over Solidad City.’

  ‘They never travelled, but she was born in the mountains. I think I follow.’ He brought the glasses over, sat opposite. ‘Terrestrial blood is a vigorous solution. I’d say you benefited from your mother’s genetics, if anything.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m a boy from the cities. Endoloscina. My parents were refugees from Petropolis.’

  So they were travellers, too? Tasteless. Didn’t say it aloud. He gazed across the space between us. Was as if he read my thoughts. Then he smiled, shook his head.

  ‘Perhaps you will taste this wine and give your expert opinion.’ He raised his glass. I couldn’t.

  ‘It’s a La Bestia 34. A first run. I know it.’

  ‘Remarkable! You can tell that from its smell?’

  ‘Smell, in a sense. I have a rare ideasthesia. I got it when I was small, after a boxing accident. Each combination of taste and odour has a personality for me. It’s like meeting a person who makes a powerful impression on you. The bond is strong. Once I’ve smelled or tasted something I never forget. I met this one at the White Orchid on my first tour. She was at the next table, of course, because I couldn’t afford anything of this quality then.’

  ‘You assign genders to them?’ He still held his glass ready for a toast.

  ‘They assign themselves. Although most of these gustatory entities are … gender-fluid. But this one is definitely female. She was being enjoyed by a man and a woman completely unworthy of her. She came over to my table in the corner and she begged me to save her. But what could I do?’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I set off a fire alarm near the kitchens, and in the fuss I plucked her off the table. We went back to my room at the Red City Inn.’

  ‘Astonishing. You liberated her. Like a heroic knight.’

  ‘It was a crime of passion, and it only happened once. I trained myself to control my gift. I couldn’t allow myself to be manipulated by these whimsical creatures, no matter how seductive.’

  ‘I don’t judge you. The first time I met this wine it was like a madness. So every bottle of La Bestia 34 shares the same personality?’

  ‘No. They’re like clones. Each with their own subtle differences. This one is quieter. Stranger, somehow.’

  ‘I had no idea. I will now have to reread everything you’ve written with your gift in mind. But let’s enjoy this strange little wine together. Our Master sent it down as a special welcome gift. To the living.’ A strange little toast. I accepted. We sipped. I died. ‘And to the dead, be they not forgotten.’ He leaned across to pour the rest of his glass into the brass pot on the table. Astonishing. The red liquid gurgled away, and he placed his empty glass on the table.

  ‘Sorry, do you wish me to …?’

  ‘Oh, certainly not! It’s just a ritual of mine. Please, enjoy your wine. It’s just the beginning. We must move on. It’s late and we have a long journey.’

  I didn’t want to move on. I wanted to spend another long, contemplative evening with her. The taste of this wine was crushing doubt. Rationalisations were cloning inside my head like bacterial cells, invading my faculties of reason. Could I really stay here? Was that truly a possibility? If this wine was just the beginning, where could it end? The image of a countess with a crooked neck brought me back. Somewhat.

  ‘Now I will explain things plainly. I can’t answer any questions about who recommended you for a place on our List. We have scanned billions of potential admissions, and offered inductions to a thousand. I hope you won’t take offence if I say that I was surprised to see your name among them.’

  ‘Not at all.’ A little.

  ‘And you should know that your place is provisional. And not all guests we offer provisional places to are made permanent members of the establishment. Your induction must be flawless if you’re to ascend. I’m sure Doctor Rubin has taken you through the induction process.’

  ‘Yes. In a sense.’

  He smiled softly. ‘Our doctor is a singular personality. He has his ways. Has he tried to make you read his book?’

  ‘He’s been very persistent.’

  ‘Copies showing up at every place you rest your head?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  He smiled again, took a discreet glance at his Platimex. ‘He will have explained the three systems at this establishment: Management; Service and Security; and Human Comfort and Medical. Doctor Difflaydermaus is in charge of Medical, of course. You’ll need to continue to endure his little rituals if you’re to progress. He was instrumental in setting up this place, though now he works in more of an advisory capacity. He still holds some sway with Management, so it would be best to keep him on side. Management has broad oversight, but you’ll have little to do with them. You will mostly deal with me and my staff. I will personally oversee your induction. You must be sure to make no missteps. Follow my instructions and you’ll do well. And don’t fret about your shoes. We know a lot can happen during a poorly managed transit. We’ll overlook it.’ He reached across the table and let his palm fall upon the bell. No sound. Then he paused, raised a finger to his full lips. ‘Ah. But there is one more thing. Mr Espantapájaros informs me that in fact you wish to check in three guests?’

  ‘My staff are essential. I’ve had threats.’

  ‘Of course. Though as I said, you’re perfectly safe … ah, Ms Zhivast, at last. Did you miss your bus?’ I swivelled in my seat to see a blushing, bright-faced young woman with a shock of orange hair and piercing blue eyes. She had frozen in the doorway, a look of panic on her face. She clutched a heavy volume to her chest. Her knuckles pulsed white. ‘Come on, he won’t bite you.’ She couldn’t move. The girl was frozen. She kept moving her mouth to speak, but her throat wouldn’t unlock.

  ‘I truly won’t, I promise.’

  ‘Ms Zhivast dreams of becoming a writer herself some day.’

  ‘Oh? You must let me read something while I’m here. And you must bring some books for me to sign. Which is your favourite?’

  Still frozen in the doorway, gaping like a drowning fish. Her lips made each vowel in order. She finally got her legs to move, rushed forward to place the fat leather volume before us, then murmured to the floor: ‘TheWomanintheGlass. I’mverysorry.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘A classic, certainly. So ingenious the way you used the train timetable to outwit them.’

  ‘Yes, but there is no express to Zinich,’ the girl said quickly, still looking at the floor. ‘You’d have got there forty minutes late.’ She clamped her hand over her mouth, I could hear the vomit surge up her throat. She swallowed. Her legs wobbled. I impulsively stood to catch her, but she regained her equilibrium and tipped out of the room without another word. Her perfume lingered.

  ‘Mr Tamberlain, I’m terribly embarrassed about that.’

  ‘Not at all.’ I sat down. ‘She’s right. There is no express to Zinich. I fudged that part.’

  ‘Well. We all fudge from time to time. Those swans I sourced were not endangered. At least before they got to Lady Howsjkinch’s suite. Now. We will need you to sign this induction agreement.’ He opened the book Ms Zhivast had provided. ‘This is your peace of mind. It protects your rights as a guest, as well as indemnifying us against anything which could happen to you during your induction if you fail to follow the rules. The contract also binds you to non-disclosure regarding our more advanced hotel systems. But I’m sure all this was explained to you.’ He smiled, and slowly reached out across the space between us to offer me a heavy fountain pen.

  ‘I should have my agent look through this.’

  ‘There’s no need to bother her. It is a standard waiver.’

  I gazed down at the burning white page. And at my half-full glass. I hungered for it.

  ‘But we can leave at any time? … Yes?’

  ‘Mr Tamb
erlain, you aren’t a prisoner. Once you’ve signed this agreement you could walk from this room and directly to Terminal Annexe. No one would stop you leaving. But why would you?’

  Why would I? He suddenly reached across and gripped my arm. I might have flinched. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it, when things aren’t exactly how you’ve imagined them. Imagine you’ve shown up to see a play a week before it opens. The set is still in pieces, the actors are only half prepared. It would seem disordered, dangerous even, the sets loosely bolted, burning lamps swinging just above you.’ His hand was still on my arm. ‘I sympathise with you. Truly. To be in conflict about your decisions is to suffer a crisis of identity. I know what you’ve been through. Word gets down to us. You need to leave all your cares, and your wishes, with us. Wishes are dangerous things. That’s why we take care of them. Trust us and you’ll have experiences which will make the past year vanish, and make you wonder why you ever cared for this funny little wine we’re drinking.’ He took his hand back. Human warmth remained.

  The funny little wine hung quietly within the shadows. I took the pen and signed my name. What else was to be done? The paper was very thick. Like calfskin.

  ‘Mr Tamberlain, this is a historic day. On behalf of my Master I wish to welcome you warmly aboard. You are his guest. Here are your induction documents, and your voyage safety cards.’ Safety cards. He passed me a black leather folder as he took back his pen with his other hand. ‘Ah. But there is just one more thing.’ He touched the pen to his lip.

  ‘Of course there is.’

  ‘It is about your staff. Of course we’ll overlook you bringing them. It won’t count as a misstep. I can see your man-guard has some entry-level refinement. But Ms Green …’

  ‘Well, I can agree she’s not the most well-bred individual.’

  ‘I’m glad you said it. It’s a difficult subject to broach.’

  ‘I tried to leave her at the Rivoli, but she’s very … persistent.’

  ‘I understand, I do. You won’t be judged. But leave it with us. We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry about a thing.’

  ‘I understand … Wait, I don’t understand.’

  ‘Please, don’t give it another thought. It’s all very embarrassing. But I know Management will agree with my decision.’ It all happened very fast. He reached again for the bell, again it made no sound. But there was a sound, from outside in the lobby, and it was loud enough to make us both jolt. It was a short cry preceded by a crunch like a melon being split in half – which I would soon learn is the sound made when a sharpened mop-handle passes through a human head.

  7 ‘Black Brigade: the Man you Wear.’

  GOODBYE GLADYS

  Gladys Green, my antithesis, my antagonist, my goblin in the mirror. I would have died a hundred times without her, but there’s been a hundred times at least she’s made me wish I were dead. She is young. Seems even younger. She has the slouch of a teenager. She sighs like one. Rolls her eyes like one. She’s like the daughter I never had, and would never want. She wears cheap clothes and inappropriate shoes. She collects shoes, I think, to intentionally harm the good intentions of an outfit. She wears skirts an inch too short. She says it’s for ‘effective weapons access, and optimal target distraction’. I think she wears them to annoy me.

  She cuts her own fringe.

  She sits with her legs apart, or slung over chair arms, shoes on tables, or on other people’s expensive cases. And if the owner of the case dares to say, ‘I wonder if you could …’ she sets her eyes on him, turns him to stone. Sometimes, for a kind of fun, I do imagine this tiny gorgon is some ungrateful child from an old marriage who’s been flung at me. ‘You fix her!’ No one can. Gladys scorns enthusiasm. She laughs at misfortune. She scribbles secret thoughts in her journal. (And if you try to read those thoughts, even just a tiny peak, she’ll try to kill you.) She kills men. Mostly men. I have seen her kill more than a few. When my former Water Bear kills someone, you learn that she is, along with all the bad things I’ve mentioned, an artist.

  Woodbine had the startled look of a man who’s just been woken on a train by a stranger, and there was a faint red mist settling on him. Franz the mop boy was now kneeling obediently beside him, eyes cast upwards, hands clutching the handle of the mop whose sharpened end protruded from the top of his skull like a unicorn’s spike. He had moved to thrust his stake into Beast’s bulging throat-nugget. My bodyguard had intercepted the stick, and sent the sharp end up through the boy’s chin, through his soft palate, up through the space where his brain would be – if his brain were made from anything real. Now she stood sullenly in her green scarf, her favourite leather jacket, her skirt and laddered stockings, the dark fang of a tattoo peeking just above her collar, as she calmly inspected one of her bright green nails, looked up at me, and shrugged.

  Woodbine’s bulk has often led attackers to assume he’s my ‘muscle’, thus giving Gladys the edge. No one would ever take her for muscle. Their attack is always directed towards Beast, who, belying his size, could not win a fight with a wet paper sack. Yes, I call him Beast, but that’s mainly because he’s so cruel to boys he dates, not because of his killing prowess, which is below average. But Gladys’s killing prowess is far above the average. My profession is a dangerous one. I hire her, despite her many, many shortcomings: because she is quick, efficient, without sentiment, and because she is the best defender available on the open market. In the business they call her Goodbye Gladys.

  She had not a speck on her clothes, though some of the boy’s blood had trickled from his mouth, down across her hand. The concierge said, ‘Ms Green. What have you done?’

  Her eyes found his, they gleamed beneath her razor-edged fringe. I walked quickly towards her and onto the slick, no longer caring, and said, ‘I agree now. Cargo-pod.’

  ‘It’s too late, John.’ I saw more white jackets milling in the shadows on the far side of the lobby. ‘We had our chance. They won’t let us leave.’

  ‘That is a reasonable assumption,’ said Shabazzniov. ‘An incident of this magnitude demands investigation.’

  ‘Well, let’s get this party started then.’ My guardian picked up her silver case. It left a dimpled rectangle in the blood. She walked across the black river, giving her scarf a gentle flick with her clean hand. She walked to the desk, printing small exclamation points on the marble. She pressed her right thumb on the register page, left her bloody mark there. She turned to the concierge and drawled: ‘Three to check in, pretty boy. No more fucking around.’

  NOTES UPON REACHING OUR SUITE WITH OBSERVATIONS ON THE HALLS, AND ON THE FUTILITY OF MODERN EXISTENCE

  I started these notes as soon as we reached our rooms, because I didn’t want to forget a single detail. Correction, I made drinks, then started those notes. Correction, first I splashed water on my face and took two more Exocets so I could concentrate. What I wouldn’t give for a Nightball™,8 or a Subroc™,9 or a Minuteman™.10 But my pharmacopoeia is in my case, and my case – Ms Xixi-Catton-Highburn’s case – has vanished. The concierge, after seeing the mess Gladys Green had made of his mop boy’s head, and then his register book, said, ‘Ms Green, would you like to tell me exactly what has gone on here?’

  ‘Here?’ She pointed at the Countess.

  ‘I mean here.’ He pointed at Franz the mop boy.

  ‘Him?’ The killer pointed at Franz the mop boy. ‘He slipped.’

  ‘He slipped?’ said Shabazzniov.

  We heard Espantapájaros click his tongue.

  ‘Sure. He was mopping and he slipped. It happens. Right, Beast?’

  ‘Wah?’ Beast still didn’t know what the fuck was happening.

  Shabazzniov stared at my protector for a long while. His reptile eyes scanned every atom in her face. The only sound in the place was the plip-plops of the blood which fell from the boy’s neck to join the spreading puddle. Finally the concierge broke away.

  ‘Mr Tamberlain, I’m most decidedly embarrassed for you. Poor Franz. We’ll need to mo
ve you to your suite until we can unpack this incident. And we’ll have Mr Woodbine’s jacket sponged.’ Shabazzniov touched my elbow – ‘Huh? Oh.’ – as if to gently pivot me away from what my eyes could not leave. His boys came warily forward, hands to their mouths. The head of the mop had smacked the ground, forcing Franz’s head down the stake as easily as an olive spiked on a cocktail stick. The stick supported his frame like a tent pole. He gazed up saintily. Shabazzniov guided me across the lobby, towards the elevators. Our luggage had been brought up from below. A girl in a white jacket appeared near Beast and Gladys, but not too near, and whispered something I couldn’t hear. Beast dreamily removed his red-specked jacket and gave it to her.

  ‘Poor, poor Franz. Not a popular member of staff, to be fair. A lady-man.’

  ‘Beg pardon?’

  ‘Oh, I beg yours. What is the phrase I’m searching for? He womanises. Still … Mr Tamberlain, there is one more thing, and it’s monumentally embarrassing to us.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ I was hardly listening.

  ‘We must keep your luggage briefly for a security scan. It is necessary to scan all inductee luggage anyway. And now with our unpacking of this incident …’

  ‘I see.’ Or a Thermodax™,11 even. Even a humble Mark4™.12

  ‘Spy-cameras, secret recording devices, illegal broadcasting equipment … We’re in Stealth Two. I assure you, this procedure won’t take long. Leave it with us. And leave your shoes out when you can.’ When I looked down, my legs appeared to wobble, as if I was seeing them distorted in a pool of clear water. I couldn’t see a speck of filth on my shoes. They seemed perfectly clean.

  ‘And send down your jacket so we can fix the cuff.’

  ‘Huh? Oh. Yes.’

  ‘You’ll be safe and comfortable in your apartment. This is not as serious as it seems, as I reflect on it. Although it is rather serious.’ The concierge spoke as gently as a nurse. ‘Please put this horrible incident out of mind.’