Date: Wed, 21 Jun 2023 02:15:00 -0500
From: Fang Saito <hokkaidohotel86it@gmail.com>
Subject: Welcome to Avernus - Chapter 8

	This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real people or
places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and
is protected under copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No
reproduction is allowed without the author's consent.

	Conversations and feedback are appreciated to Greyson B. via email
at hokkaidohotel86it@gmail.com. I love hearing from readers. And thank you
to Johnny Kape for the excellent editing assistance he has been providing
me. He is a wonderful cheerleader. Thank you.

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Welcome to Avernus

Chapter 8

	My mother and I went home. We didn't even pretend like I was going
to finish out the day. Mom didn't know exactly what had happened, but
apparently he got in a fight with another guy in the jail. A drunk, no
less. I honestly didn't know how I felt about it. I've got a funny feeling
that I won't be going back to school. We're probably going to go back to
fucking Alabama.

	Pacing around the house was doing nothing for my mood. I tried to
read, but couldn't concentrate. No way did I want to try my new modeling
hobby while completely distracted, either. I wanted to skate. I grabbed my
new medium jacket and slipped out of the house, walking to Taki's to pick
up my skateboard. I waited until I was nearly there before texting Mom to
let her know I was going out. No sense in letting her tell me I couldn't
get out of the house. I also texted Taki and Wheeler, the only two numbers
I had so far, to let them know I was out of school for a couple of days,
and I'd explain later.

	I hit the pavement, just kind of riding random streets while I
thought about the situation. Yeah, he was a piece of shit, a drunk, and
could be pretty fucking mean. Honestly, he wasn't usually as bad as he had
been this past week. I couldn't help but wonder if he was in over his head
with the people at this new job. I mean, Mr. Tsui seemed like he absolutely
had a scary side, and that was just one guy that I had met. Dad was
probably working with scarier guys. Plus, Mom had mentioned that she and
Dad were both having weird nightmares every night at the hotel, so it
sounded like they were experiencing as much weird shit as me.

	Did this mean I was trying to make excuses for Dad hitting me? Hell
no. Or at least, I didn't think so. We never saw eye to eye. He was more at
home in the "good ol' boy" atmosphere back home, while I had a much more
urban, skater mentality. Much more laid back on ethics and morals. It
really came to a head when I came out of the closet. Because I blew that
fuckin' door off its hinges, no apologies. I pretty much dared him to kick
me out. He threatened it a couple of times, especially when he was drunk
and pissed off. But my aunt, my mom's sister, works for CPS up in
Huntsville, so she is pretty up to date on a parent's legal
responsibilities toward their kid.

	But for all his faults, Jeremy Docker was my father, and was no
longer here. As much of a piece of shit as he tended to be, Dad had kept a
roof over our heads and food on our table. Sure, he may have had problems
with his fucked up faggot of an unplanned son, but he had never walked
away. And as much as they had fought, I know, I mean, I KNOW, that he loved
my mom. And now that was gone. Every single piece of my life was completely
up in the air.

	And one puzzle piece stood out in my mind. Mr. Tsui had stood
before me last night. And when he saw my black eye, he had smiled and said
he had work to do. And here I was, his self proclaimed investment. Had he
done this? Could he have arranged to have a man killed? Everything, about
almost everything, since we had arrived had come off as weird and
dangerous. Well you know what? Fuck it. I had to know.

	It seemed that fate wanted to help me for once, because when I
pulled out my phone to see what random street I was on, I found myself on
the south side of town, and unusually close to the hotel. Bingo. I headed
that way. I wasn't sure of a plan, only of my determination to insist on
answers. I started to ignore the text from my mother, but all it said was,
"kay", so you know, not exactly a lot there to ignore.

	I kick-snapped my board up to my hand at the last second before
entering the lobby, not exactly being quiet or subtle. Mina and Robert were
both at the desk, the latter on the phone, as I marched straight at
them. Mina looked up, and I think she could see the anger on my face,
because she started to come around the end of the counter.

	"Hi there," I said curtly. "I need a favor."

	"Sure, Jason," she said in a concerned voice. "Are you okay? You
look upset."

	"I need you to unlock the third floor for me," I snapped, then
added as an afterthought, "Please."

	"I don't- I mean-" she stammered, trying to figure out how to
answer. "There isn't a third floor." she paused, then asked, "Did you
forget something in your room? Nothing was turned in to the lost and found,
but I can check with housekeeping."

	"Mina, you've been nice, but third floor. Now." I wasn't falling
for her confused act. "The elevator around the corner. Call whoever you
need to for a key card, or an access password, or whatever it takes." I
stared her down. "Or I go to the cops with what I know about this place."

	"Look, Jason. I'm not sure what you are thinking, but let me get
somebody for you." She went over to Robert, who just managed to stammer
something about calling them back, before Mina hit the lever to hang up the
call. She took the handset from him, and he looked over at me in confusion
while she pressed three buttons on the phone keypad.

	"I need an escort at the front desk," she muttered into the
phone. It was obvious she was trying to speak as quietly as possible. She
listened to something, said, "Yes," listened again, and then hung
up. Addressing me again, she said, "Jason, I've really tried to be a
friend."

	I couldn't tell if she was concerned, or afraid. "I don't blame you
for anything," I said. "Either of you," taking in Robert as well. "But
someone just killed my father, and I'm pretty sure he's in this
building. I'm not leaving until I find out."

	"That's a dangerous mood, dude," whispered Robert.

	"Don't fuckin' care," I casually tossed back.

	Before anything more could be said, the woman I remembered from
dinner the other night with Mr. Tsui, came around the corner from the first
floor hallway. She was carrying that same leather bound folder with her
that she had been showing Mr. Tsui before, and was dressed in a very sharp
business outfit. I was pretty sure she had just come from the other
elevator. Good. Maybe now I could find some shit out. Then, when she was
about halfway across the lobby to us, I noticed two of the bodyguard thugs
that had taken me upstairs turn the corner and stop, watching us all in the
lobby.

	The woman had that same lemon-sucking hateful look on her face,
until she got a dozen feet away, at which point she switched
instantaneously to the fakest, most hate-filled smile I have ever seen
someone wear. It was the kind of face that monkeys show when they bare
their teeth. I did not feel any better about her now, than I did then.

	"Jason," she said in a voice that was too loud, too friendly, too
full of letting you know exactly how much she hated dealing with you. "How
nice to meet you. My name is Joyce Flannagan, Mr. Tsui's Personal
Assistant. If you will please follow me?"

	And just as quickly, she did a quick-turn on the toe of her shoe
and began walking away. I guarantee her smile disappeared the second her
back was turned. She didn't even look to see if I was following. We joined
the two men in suits and went around to get into the second elevator. Same
paranoid procedure as before, including keycard and foreign pass phrases.

	I was in a mood to push my luck, so I asked what was on my mind. "I
see buttons for B, G, and L," I said. "I'm guessing G is for the ground
floor, since we are going to L on the third floor. Otherwise I would have
guessed L was for lobby." I looked around at the other three in the
elevator with me. "So what's the L for? I'm already guessing there is a
basement, so that's the B."

	There was silence, then finally one of the goons muttered, "Loft."

	"Makes sense," I said, with overly fake cheerfulness.

	"Now then," Ms. Flanagan said as we all exited the elevator. "If
you will please follow me?" She walked over to the reception desk, setting
down her notebook, and then motioned me toward the door with that long
hallway. I was led by her and one of the goons down to the second door on
the right this time, and we all three entered the room. It was a sitting
room. Two couches, two overstuffed chairs, a few end tables. One wall was
mostly glass, looking out toward the town of Avernus. Another had a dark
bookcase.

	"Excuse me, kid," said the guard. "Nothing personal."

	Before I could register what was going on, I was spun around and
had to drop my skateboard and slap my hands against the wall to keep from
smacking it with my face. Now, I've never been patted down before this so I
don't know, but dude was thorough. His fingers dug into my armpits, pinched
my shoulder blades, slid down my ribs, and squeezed all over my coat.

	"Hey, that seems real fuckin' personal!" I squealed as he patted my
back pockets and then slid his hands around the front of my hips to check
my front pockets, and then slid into my inner thighs. I'm pretty sure I
didn't have an inch of skin that my guy didn't run his hands over. By this
point, he probably knew how many inches I had in my pants. In the end, he
had my phone out of my pocket, as well as my wallet and he even took my
pen. I didn't have house keys yet, so he had it all.

	"Sorry, kid," he said as he stepped back. He kept my stuff, and
even picked up my board from the floor.

	Then the shrew addressed me, with about as much personality as a
wet towel. "Please remain here, Jason. Mr. Tsui will be along when he is
able."

	Before I could really have a chance to react, they had both
retreated from the room, closing the door behind them. Only when the door
was closed did it occur to me that he had taken all my stuff, including my
phone. Pissed, I went over and sure enough, the door was locked. I wanted
to throw something, kick something. Anything- something. But I was kind of
intimidated by the decor in the room. It seemed fancy. Nice art on the
wall, good carpeting, nice furniture. There were two things to give my
attention to. First, the wall of glass opposite the door let me look out
over the town. I thought I could make out the school, but I wasn't sure. I
also thought I could make out the courthouse on the square. I could
absolutely see the steeples from the two churches in town. I wasn't sure
what kind they were, since that really wasn't my thing. It made me think of
my mom though. She used to love going to church. Maybe she would like one
of the churches here. But that just brought me back to how we probably
weren't going to be here long enough for her to find out.

	And thinking about Mom reminded me that if she texted or called, I
wouldn't be able to answer. Fuck, why did they have to take my phone? Maybe
I shouldn't have made the threat about calling the cops. After all, if
Mr. Tsui really were who I thought they were, well, don't the Mafia usually
buy off the local cops? I mean, he would pretty much have to, if he really
did have my dad killed. Now that I had time to calm down, I was realizing
how stupid I was. This was the mob. They probably controlled
everything. They probably had just killed my father. And I just casually
let them take my phone and lock me away.

	But stupid or not, I wanted answers more than I wanted to stay
alive in my current blindness. I was willing to test just how much Mr. Tsui
really wanted to have me here. I had no idea how long I was going to be in
here. I tried to remember what time I had come to the hotel. I started
walking around the room, going over to the only other interesting thing to
look at, the bookcase on the far wall. All of the books were in nice
condition, about half of them with fancy leather covers. And well over half
of them were in a symbols language. Korean? Chinese? Japanese? I felt so
ignorant for not even being able to recognize what language the symbols
were, even if I couldn't read them.

	I looked at the ones that did have English on their spines, and saw
that at least half of those were philosophical think pieces. I saw Plato,
The Iliad and the Odyssey, Machiavelli, and Sigmund Freud, alongside Sun
Tzu, Lao Tzu, Gautama, and Confucius. The English books that weren't
philosophy were all law, business, and economics books. Boo-riiing. I had
always heard about the Art of War, so I pulled it down, thinking I would
pass the time. Then I happened to notice, half hidden behind a fern, a
small clock, one of the old ones with the little hands. If I was reading it
right, I think it said it was four o'clock. I don't know. I'd barely ever
seen clocks that weren't digital, and nobody had actually taught us to read
these things. If it was, then I had been here almost 45 minutes.

	I tried to stay interested in the book, just so I would have
something to do. I think I even dozed off at some point. Anyway, I was
sitting on one of the couches, one foot curled up under me, watching the
sun lazily setting and wondering how much longer I was going to be locked
away in here, when there was a knock on the door. I started to get up, but
it opened, and the goon from earlier poked his head in.

	"I'm passing on a message," he said in a bored voice. "Mr. Tsui
should get here in around 20 minutes."

	Before I could even ask for my phone, he shut the door
back. Feeling a bit frustrated, I sat there and watched as the window did
that transition you get as it goes dark, where it becomes harder and harder
to see anything but reflections in the glass, as the light in the room
becomes brighter than the light outside. Finally I could see nothing but a
reflection of the room around me.

	As the minutes passed, I built my anger back up as my frustration
grew. I shoved the book back into the shelf, not even sure if it was where
I had gotten it from, and not caring. At last, the door opened and
Ms. Flanagan entered the room, leather ledger tucked in her arms, sour look
on her face.

	"Mr. Tsui will be here momentarily. Can I get you-"

	"Christ, will people quit telling me that he'll be here
eventually?" I yelled. "Is he here, or not? Is this why you people took my
phone? So I couldn't call for help?"

	She backed out of the room without bothering to say anything else,
clearly pissed. She probably thought I was a problem beneath her or
something. Completely pissed off now, I ran over and banged on the door. I
even kicked it a few times, for good measure. Once again, I wanted to start
grabbing items and throw them, but I managed to calm myself down and avoid
worsening my situation. Instead, I went over to one of the chairs and
tugged it around, then plopped my ass down, staring at the closed door. I
was tempted to decide on an object to have ready, to throw it at the next
person to open the door that wasn't Mr. Tsui. Fortunately, that option was
taken away from me when, a few minutes later, Mr. Tsui himself opened the
door.

	"I understand that you wanted to see me," he said calmly. "A call
would not have sufficed?"

	I was in no mood to be polite. I got right to the point. "Did you
do it? Yesterday you said you had work to do, when you saw my eye. Did you
kill my dad?"

	"Right to the point, I see," he said with a dark chuckle. "Is it
going to bother you if I say yes?"

	"Hell yeah," I said as I hopped from the chair, ready for a fight,
an argument, whatever he wanted.

	"Interesting," he said. "I would have thought you would be happier,
with your assailant out of your life."

	"He was my dad!"

	"He was your bully," he replied, his frustration apparent. "Are you
such a child that you need your parents to hold your hand?"

	"Really dude?" I was shocked, to add to being pissed. "Yes, I'm
still in school. I don't get a say in my life! My mom's already talking
about having his funeral in Alabama, and us just staying there."

	"Well, Jason. We shall have to do something about that, won't we?"

	"Even if we could, why would I want to?" I asked. I wasn't agreeing
to shit without some answers. "You said you brought me here, and my dad's
job was just an excuse. But you haven't told me why you want me here."

	"Very well. It is a bit ahead of schedule, but I will show you
now. Come with me."

	I turned to pick up my coat off the couch, and as I did, I glanced
up at the room in the window's glass reflection. I could see the room
décor, the book shelf, couches and myself. Through the open door, I
could see the shoulder of one of the goons out in the hallway. What I
couldn't see was Mr. Tsui. I looked back around, and sure enough, he was
standing right there in the doorway, his right hand casually resting on the
door handle. I did a double take back at the window. Sure enough, no Tsui.

	"What the hell?" I managed to get out, and then a wave of dizziness
washed over me. I vaguely felt myself fall to the couch.

	I felt warm, comfortable. I was a baby, being carried in my
mother's arms. Then I was a boy, looking out of the sunroof of our car,
watching the street lights pass over us against the night sky. Then the
street lights morphed into fields of stars. I was swimming on my back,
looking up at the night sky, and the full moon passed me by, directly
overhead, flying across the stars from my head down the my feet, as if on a
time lapse. The moon must have passed a dozen times over my head as I
floated in the water. But then something had hold of my arms, holding them
to my sides.

	I struggled. I was going to drown! Then, in my struggles, I saw
Tsui's goon, the one who had been standing outside my door, looking upside
down over my face. Suddenly I was no longer drowning, and in my adrenaline
fueled panic, I realized that I was strapped to a gurney. The stars
overhead were pinpricks in the ceiling tiles, the moon, fluorescent lights
we were rhythmically passing under.

	"Sir, the boy seems to be waking."

	I heard the goon's voice from far off. Some inner voice was telling
me to ignore it, and to go back to sleep. Bad things would happen if I
tried to wake. Nothing but restful goodness awaited me if only I would
sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep was preferable. I should sleep now.

	"Diu nei lao mo," Mr. Tsui muttered at the guard. "How is this
possible? This diu child should be out."

	I fought the voice telling me to sleep. I fought hard. I strained
my eyes, forcing them open. I tugged against the straps holding my arms to
the gurney. I kicked at the belts holding my ankles. I stopped moving, as
they both struggled to deal with me. Mr. Tsui was suddenly at my side. His
eyes were no longer black, but instead gleamed a deep golden orange. I
fought to stare at him, and then with the pain of getting hit in the
forehead with a sledgehammer, I passed out.

	Once more I floated. This time, however, I heard the voice and
identified it as somehow "not me". I searched for a way to grasp at it, to
peel back an edge and fight it. I finally isolated the voice, realizing it
was somehow Mr. Tsui's voice, and yet somehow different, somehow "off". But
now that I knew it, I started working out how to avoid it. How to fight it.

	Opening my eyes, I found myself in what could only be described as
a hospital lab. An operating room. All the stereotypical equipment was
around. The monitors, the overhead lights, even the pair of technicians
with scrubs and masks. But also in the room was Mr. Tsui and another
man. However, as I became clearer about my situation and my surroundings, I
started to realize maybe I wasn't coming out of it like I thought. I must
still be in some kind of dream state. Because the other guy with Mr. Tsui
wasn't... human. At least not in any sense of the word that I knew. He was
certainly shaped like a man. But his arms, long and lanky, reached nearly
to his knees. He had long, stringy grey hear, tall, pointed ears, and
somehow, no nose. Just a hole in his face where the nasal cavity should
be. When the... man?... saw I was awake, he hissed at me. Hissed, like a
damned cat or something!

	I've heard people talk about "seeing red" when they get angry. I'm
not sure that this was what they mean when people say that. When the thing
hissed at me like that, his eyes went from black, to some kind of black
with a red sheen to it, almost like red dye had poured over two black
marbles. Out of nowhere, it was like someone had put a red lens over my
eyes, like red glasses. Everything became red, or shades of black. I knew
it had to be still a dream, because I sat up in the gurney without even
feeling the straps. They felt like no more than cotton candy, or whipped
cream. The creepy guy jumped at me, while Mr. Tsui jumped away. Both of the
orderlies were thrown against the walls by the struggle. We tore at each
other, me and that creature. It was Mr. Tsui I was mad at, but here in my
dream, it was this creature, this thing, that focused my attention. Mostly
because I seemed to be the focus of his attention.

	He tore at me, slashing at my face and chest with these long claws
on his hands, claws that were longer than the fingers they were attached
to. Whenever he opened his mouth to give another hiss, I saw that all his
teeth were the color of old ivory, and every one of them were needle thin,
and just as sharp. I don't know how he could even clear his throat without
slicing up the inside of his own mouth. In my dream, I didn't have claws or
a weapon, but I seemed to be fast, and crazy strong. As I dodged him, I was
able to grab equipment and throw it at him, as if I was picking up blocks
of foam. And then...

	I felt warm, comfortable. I was lying in a bed, or maybe on a
couch. My head was laying in my mother's lap, and she was stroking my
hair. It felt so nice. I was relaxed, at ease. The fear and immediacy of
the nightmare was long fading, although the details seemed crisp and
fresh. I was just now protected from them as if by a sheet of glass, by the
knowledge that they were merely a dream. As I came more awake, I started to
feel as if the lap where I was laying my head was not my mother's. It was
firmer, less padding, as it were. Also, although I was warm under the
blanket laid across me, I began to realize that the hand stroking my hair
was cool to the touch. Cold, and familiar.

	I opened my eyes to see Wren staring down at me. At least I thought
it was Wren. The smile seemed somehow wrong for Erin.

	"How do you feel?" they asked softly.

	"Wren?" I mumbled, trying to confirm. He nodded.

	"See? You're getting it. Soon you will have no issues telling us,
one from the other."

	"It's your smile," I said sleepily. "You smile different from your
sister."

	I tried to sit up, but he gently pushed me back down. "Easy," he
said. "Give it a minute. You've been through some stuff."

	"I'm dizzy, I need to sit up." He let me, and that was when I
realized that I was shirtless. "Where the hell's my clothes?" I
asked. Then, not recognizing the room, more panic set in. "Where the hell
am I?"

	"Calm, Jason," said Wren. "Nobody's going to hurt you. You're in a
public space, of sorts. As for your shirt, we'll find you something to
wear." He pulled up the blanket and wrapped it back around my shoulders as
he helped me to a better sitting position. Now that I was awake, he seemed
more reluctant, or perhaps more careful, about touching me.

	"Tell me what the hell is going on?" I asked, my voice rising. I
could hear it getting louder, but it was like I had no control over my
volume.

	"Calm, Jason." And this time as he said it, a similar and familiar
voice sounded in my head, repeating the words over and over, subtly and
quietly. "Calm... calm, Jason. Calm..."

	I started to become relaxed again, even in my panic. Then as if
something in me snapped, I shook my head and looked at Wren in anger.

	"What are you doing? What the hell are you?" I started scrambling
down the couch, trying to get distance from him, as if that might give the
voice in my head less power.

	"Amazing," Wren said in quiet astonishment. "Simply amazing." And
just as suddenly, the pressure in my head that was fighting against my
anger vanished, along with the repeating words. My anger flared back into
being, twice as strong. Twice as pissed off.

	"What. The. Hell," I said, pronouncing each word in slow, cold
rage.

	"Peace," said Wren, holding up his hands. "I know telling someone
to calm down usually just upsets them more, but I am happy to have a
conversation with you. No more tricks."

	"What do you mean, tricks?" I asked, still pissed, but trying to
listen.

	"I mean, no more attempts at mental manipulation. No more mesmir. I
wish only to talk," he said. I started to back down, to relax a bit, but I
kept my guard up, ready for more voices in my head. I was starting to
recognize them when I heard them, and was prepared to fight off its effects
again.

	"You scared Dom quite badly," Wren said with a small grin. "Dominic
Tsui, I mean. You certainly seem to have the blood of a true Assecla." When
he saw the look of confusion on my face, he quickly added, "An Assecla is a
familiar, someone into whom a Vampyre has poured some of his power."

	"A Vampire?" I scoffed. "Is that what you are?"

	"No," Wren said, his face serious. "We are Vampyre." He pronounced
it oddly, like `vamp-ear' Then he continued, "There are Vampires, mostly
from Europe, who feed off blood. But there are different species of Vampyre
from all around the world, such as the Wendigo from the American Midwest,
the Chupacabra from Central America, and the Jianshi from China."

	"Oo-kay," I said, not sure what to make of what he was saying. "Why
are you telling me all this? Either you're faking it, trying to get me to
believe some practical joke." He gave a small snort of amusement as I said
this. "Or you're for real, in which case you are about to pull some `join
us or die' bullshit on me."

	Wren smiled. "You truly are fascinating," he said. "And there is no
need to give you some kind of ultimatum. You have already proven that you
are also Vampyre. You are an Assecla. Specifically, you are Dominic's
Assecla."

	"Is there any part of this that you can describe as if talking to a
dumb fifteen year old? What do you mean that I've `proven' myself to be
this... whatever?"

	"Jason, I've watched you the last several days. More than once,
I've seen you throw off mesmir, attempts at mental suggestion. Yesterday
you kept mentioning my smile, I believe you described it as, `turning
fake'. And tonight, Dom had you completely under his power, but you managed
to throw him off in the hallway and wake up. And then again in the lab."

	"That place was fuckin' real?" I yelled, sitting up straighter.
"That freakin' monster with the claws and bat ears?"

	"That was Solomon," said Wren with a serious expression. "And Dom
was quite fearfully impressed when you fought Solomon to a standstill." He
paused for a beat. "And then killed him."