Wrestling the Kraken

Dante

Dante

Dante closed the door behind him to his hotel suite. The note in his hand, so thin yet weighed more than he could carry. He set it down on the table and looked to his window, drawing back the curtains. The light was breaking through- a tiny sliver of grey dawn on the horizon.

All the shadows looked to it as he did. A signal to the soul to change into something more acceptable, something more decent and proper. We all revert to animals in our sleep, he thought, though some find a way off the leash of dreams and onto the streets, released as the light recedes.

He left the rapt view and went into the bedroom to change into something more suitable for the day. Looking himself over in the mirror- wearing khaki pants, black turtleneck, and a leather jacket- he thought this would be permissible in daylight's prim rays.

The hard part would be his face. The smiles he would have to fake. Some days- days like today- those demands were too great. A smile, his soul feared, would deem everything to be okay. Everything was far from okay.

Walking back over to the table, he paused before lifting up the note. Was this really his life? Was fate so cruel, his punishment to be served as it pleased? Though un-evenly distributed among the guilty, was there anything that could be done to tip the scales?

He read the note and made his way out. Coming off the elevator, he noticed some workers on a ladder installing some kind of box in the corner of the ceiling in the lobby. Seeing the front desk clerk was not busy, he thought for a moment. It was usually no use to ask, he had asked all the other clerks in all the other cities, but by now it was a habit. A useless habit. He walked over to the clerk.

"By any chance do you know if there was someone wandering the hotel this morning?" he asked, ready to take off and be on his way.

"I'm not sure what you mean? We have staff that are available at all hours." The clerk replied.

"Thanks." For nothing. Dante turned to go.

"I saw someone." The bellman spoke up. He was off to the side of the clerk, standing in wait, overhearing the conversation. Dante stopped, turning to face the man.

"A young French woman arrived early this morning, not all that long ago." He recounted. "Said she was headed to her room. Then she left a few minutes later. Said she had places to be and things to do. Seemed very pleasant."

"Which way did this woman go?" He asked.

"I hailed her a taxi. She went that way." The bellman pointed off to the left.

She could be anywhere by now.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Rossini?" The clerk asked.

"I received a note under my door this morning and was hoping to catch up to the person who left it."

"And you don't know who this person is?" The clerk asked.

Dante shook his head, no.

"I really shouldn't explain, but we are installing cameras around the hotel. It's very state of the art technology. Very few hotels have this, you know."

Dante looked back at the workers on the ladder. He eyed the box they had been installing.

"Should you receive another visit from this mysterious friend of yours, we would have the recording of it." The clerk said proudly.

"That is good to know, thank you." Dante smiled and walked out of the hotel. That is certainly good to know.

♦

He hailed a taxi and had it drop him off at the theater, walking to the back where the circus was set up. In the back staging area, he headed into the administrative trailer.

Barbara was at the desk, filling out forms. She was always early. The silence enabled her to work in peace.

"Hey Barb, Did you have that date with that one officer yet?" He asked, walking up to the key rack.

She smiled. "No, not yet. It's on Saturday."

Dante grabbed a key for one of the delivery trucks. "Make sure he treats you well, or I'll end up having a chat with him." He winked at her, pocketing the key.

"I will." she smiled even wider, briming from ear to ear.

Dante lit a cigarette, before heading out.

"Are you ever going to get that thing buffed out?" Barbara asked. "You know my offer still stands to have it done for you."

"What, this old thing? Don't bother. It can keep the scratches."

She watched him turn toward the door and step out. When he borrowed the truck this early, she knew what to expect. Why are all the good ones taken or crazy? Looking at a picture on the wall of the whole Rossini family, Dante and Charlotte when they were younger, she smiled and went back to her paperwork.

♦

Dante walked out of the administrative trailer and into Vivianne's. She wasn't inside, but the flowers he bought her were. In every city, he ordered flowers under his father's name and had them delivered to her. She adored them, her father took the credit, and he had a constant ready supply of red roses when the need appeared.

Selecting a single rose in full bloom, he tucked it into his jacket and stepped out, looking around. Seeing no one, he got into one of the delivery trucks and drove to the address given on the note.

He parked a few blocks away from the location and decided to scope out the spot first. Each location he was directed to had its own challenges or advantages. Some were in heavily populated areas, or narrow spaces, others were in isolated places like this one seemed to be. Making sure what he was getting into was the only way to play it safe.

Walking the rest of the way, he noticed the buildings here were abandoned. How did his father find these places? Then again, he supposed the goons he hired to do this work were the ones who knew where to go.

At the end of 53rd street, there was an unfinished complex. It had no walls, but large dumpsters and burnt cars lay in its lot, blocking much of the view from the road. He walked towards the building, looking all around him with a careful eye.

The sun was up, but you wouldn't know it. A sky full of grey billowed in different shades, layering and intermingling, creating a soft bed of solemn fleece.

There was muffled noise in the background from the blocks that seemed a world away from here. The sound overpowered by the 'ca' of black crows, striking in contrast against the sky. Walking closer, the gravel crunching and kicking up beneath his feet, he could see a portion of a wrapped figure ahead.

Today, this place more so than any of the others, caused him to believe he had stepped away from reality and walked towards a place few are ever allowed to leave from. He was a shapeshifter approaching the gates of purgatory. The ability, granting him access to be an observer of a hallowed place. A place where the soul attempted its arduous journey. This time, this day, it held more true than any that came before. Fox Hollow, he now knew, would either transform him...or consume him.