Nothing But Bones

42: Formaldehyde

Tiff leans against the frame of the bathroom door like it doesn't matter, knowing full well she's going to try to reach for either the pocketknife she left on the floor or one of the relatively-heavy jars of solution on the bathroom counter. "Did your dick grow back or are you just rocking a bare stoma with no jar?"

Boris ignores her. That's fine. It wasn't a particularly clever line.

It's a simple plan: she'll throw the plastic jar, dive for the pocket knife, and complete the move by stepping between Boris and everybody else. She can do that. No shirt, bloody jeans, heart exposed— she can do that. Tiff grabs the jar of formaldehyde and, half-remembering the pitching lessons Kay tried to give her during a break one time, lobs it at the man in the doorway.

There's a loud crack when it connects with his head. She isn't sure if it's the lid of the jar or something more vital. It makes her pause, in the middle of grabbing the folded pocket knife she left on the ground earlier. Did she throw it too hard or something?

The jar shatters in Boris's face. The crack must have been twofold: his nose streaming blood and formaldehyde splashing across him indicates two breaks. Caustic liquid gets into his eyes; he screams, drops the knife, and brings his hands up to his face. Boris backs into the hall, then the wall opposite the doorway, writhing against it like he doesn't remember how to keep things out of his eyes. Other guests peer out of their rooms. One has their phone out. She hopes it's to call the police.

The corpse of the front desk attendant falls limp to the ground somewhere between them. Elton looks down the hall at Boris, who is blindly fumbling his way back towards the stairs. He yells at everyone, in a way he mostly isn't aware of, to get back in their rooms; there's a maniac on the loose; don't panic.

Both Ellis and Melvin are in the hall now, having shrugged off the shock of the situation and left the book behind.

Fully in panic mode about the state of the bathroom and the incredibly suspicious amount of blood in it, Tiff draws the shower curtain and starts running the water, like that's going to help anything, shoves the pocketknife in her pocket, hides the jar of fixative and human appendage, and takes off for the stairs. She snaps her fingers a couple times on her way out the door, a reminder for the still-sleeping Kepler to get up and follow her. Honestly, if Boris knew anything about lab safety, he would have just gone to the bathroom to flush his eyes. Not everyone can be smart, though. Kepler snaps awake and rushes to Tiff, taking in the scene.

Elton steps up next to her, trying desperately not to look at Jo's crumpled body in the hall. "How do we want to do this?"

Also in the hall, Ellis looks ahead at Boris, who is navigating the steps carefully without the use of his eyes. "Yes, what do you want to do about him?"

"Fuck, I don't know! I guess I just have to— fuck, god— We just have to catch him first, and then— This would be less of a riddle if we weren't around people and if I weren't losing my mind. Does anyone have a sword?"

Melvin looks at Tiff in semi-surprise. "A sword, Tiffany? Are you going to behead him?"

Elton looks down at Boris. "Probably better than he deserves."

"It's the only thing I can think of." She takes a breath. "And plastic wrap."

Melvin laughs. "You're serious? You want to fucking murder this clown?"

"I don't want to murder him. I'm not Patrick Bateman." Tiff reaches down to tie her boot, still in the middle of putting it on. "Not yet, anyway. And the plastic wrap is for me."

"No, no..." Ellis shakes his head. "We need to leave. Take him somewhere else. The police will be here soon."

Sighing, Elton turns back to the people who are in the hall watching them. "Let me see if I can't calm these people down while you guys deal with him."

Tiff's shoe keeps untying. She would panic about it, but Boris isn't making great time down the stairs and, for some reason, she's finding it harder and harder to feel things as time goes on. She leans down and ties it again.

Elton puts his hands up and steps past her. "Hello! Everyone! I'm Elton Castle, the owner's nephew. There's been a tragic incident. Please do not freak out, as the police are on their way. Everyone will be refunded. Please go back into your rooms."

One of the three other guests points to the corpse of Jo in the doorway and yells, "She's dead! Someone killed her!"

"Yes, that's—" Elton isn't sure what to say. There's no good way to spin it without reminding himself of what he has lost.

Groaning, Ellis looks behind him, but ultimately walks toward Elton. He lowers his voice. "I have a solution, but I have only ever done this one time and I don't know how... potent it will be. Probably very."

Elton nods. "Do it."

The elf brings his hands up and murmurs under his breath while approaching the guests in the hallway. The language is indecipherable and presumably Elvish. He mutters a warning to Elton, who obediently dashes back to Tiff and Melvin.

One of the guests, the one who pointed at Jo, yells at Ellis to stay away. He doesn't listen. He pushes his hands out toward them. A flash of blue light surges forward; every guest in the hallway collapses.

He turns back to the others with his thumbs up and a slight grimace on his face. "They'll be out for a few minutes and won't remember probably the last... day? Could be more. My point being, they'll recall none of this. But we need to hurry before they wake up and it was all for naught."

Tiff shoots him a thumbs up and, really wishing she had a sword and some plastic wrap, runs for the stairs to try and find Boris. He can't have gotten far, stumbling blind and bloody through the hotel. When she remembers to take her glasses off her head and put them over her eyes, she definitely has an advantage in that regard.

Elton looks at the Berrycloths, then over at the running-off vision Tiff scampering down the stairs. He sighs, knowing she'll be fine. The situation won't be, though. "I'm going to need your help to clean up anything... suspicious. I'd guess we have about ten minutes before the police arrive. Ellis, if you can... I don't know, like, magic all of the blood from Tiff's room and anywhere other than where... I really don't know if the shower she's running is going to do the trick."

Elton breathes in shakily. Jo's dead. He knew her, she was his friend, and now she's fucking gone. He doesn't have time to process it, but grief doesn't really give a shit about what's convenient. He tamps it down anyway. "We have to— We have to get the blood out of anywhere other than where Jo died. Let's— Let's make it look like a robbery or something. I don't know."

Melvin puts his hand on Elton's shoulder. "We'll help. Don't worry. You're doing great, kid. I'm sorry your friend got caught up in all of this. I suspect Tiff is going to make sure Boris gets his comeuppance. One way or another."

"One way or another," he agrees, not quite feeling it.

The author jostles his shoulders a little. "Good lad. Now... Come on! Let's do this."