My name’s Mike – just Mike, thanks for asking – and I’m a concierge at a magic hotel. I know what you’re thinking: Gross. But it’s not the kind where you pay by the hour and leave feeling empty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging. I just don’t think those places usually employ a concierge service. No, I work at a literal magic hotel, catering to – you guessed it! – magicians. Now I’m not talking about the guy you hire for your nephew’s seventh birthday party. I’m talking about the guy that can whisper a spell and make a cauldron of frogs appear out of thin air. That being the case, you might wonder why they need a concierge service at all. Beats me. I guess some things just aren’t worth their time. That’s where I come in. Well, me and the rest of the staff anyways. Let me tell you, some of these guys, they are as particular as they are demanding. God forbid you mistake laurel for nettle and half the eighteenth floor blows up. Happened once, not fun. Fortunately, the hotel itself is magic as well, so it can withstand the occasional complication. Unfortunately, it does not clean goblin piss out of the elevator. That’s the other thing. It’s not just magicians that stay in our hotel. We’re open to all sorts of magical creatures, with the exception of a nasty few that just can’t seem to play nice. You may be wondering how all this goes on without you ever realizing it. But, believe it or not, there’s more magic hotels out there than you might think, hiding in plain sight in cities across the world. Who knows, there might even be one in your own hometown. If you happen to find one, my advice is stay away. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.
So there it is, your pleasant little intro to my life as a magical concierge, although, frankly, my duties go way beyond that of your average concierge. Over the years, I’ve seen plenty of stuff that’ll make your toes curl, but the reason I’m finally breaking my silence is because of something that happened last week. Remember how I mentioned we don’t service all guests? Well, one of those nasty ones got in and almost brought the whole place down.
I was working the night shift on a slow, Wednesday evening, when I got a call about a guest having issues with a clogged bathtub on the ninth floor. Normally I’d send Maintenance, but it was an easy enough request. I grabbed some Drano and a few pipe cleaners and hopped on the elevator to investigate the problem. When the elevator dinged open, I trudged out onto the carpeted floors with my tools in hand. It was quiet for nine o’clock, but, as I said, it was a slow night. I made my way to the guest’s room and knocked on the door twice, tapping my toe as I waited. I could hear movement inside, but there was no answer. So, I knocked again.
“Hotel concierge!” I yelled, perhaps a little too loudly. Magicians and creatures alike can be touchy about interruptions, but, luckily, I didn’t hear any complaints. “I’m here about a clogged drain.”
“One second.” A high voice mewed back. There came the shuffling of feet, the click of the deadbolt, and then the door opened.
“Good evening Ma’am. You requested assistance?” I asked, eyebrows raised as I stared down at an elderly Asian woman, dressed in a violet bathrobe with a white towel draped around her head. She looked like she had just gotten out of the shower, but, oddly, neither towel nor robe seemed wet in the slightest. Weird but not that weird. She looked up at me, allowing me a look at her eyes. They were a very light brown, almost amber, and they seemed too large for her face. Frankly, they gave me the chills. So, given that, and the state of her dress, I looked away and waited to be ushered in.
I followed the woman into the bathroom, where a half-full bathtub of dirty water sat stagnant, dark hair floating on the surface.
“It won’t drain.” The woman said, motioning with her hands at the tub.
“I see that,” I replied. “Looks like there might be a buildup of hair down there. I can send Maintenance up to take care of it.” I was not about to go plunging elbow deep into this woman’s body hair.
“No. No Maintenance. I need it fixed now. You’re here. You fix it.”
Shit. “Okay,” I shrugged. “I’ll try, Ma’am. It just looks like a nasty clog is all. I might need more supplies.”
“You try. I’ll wait outside. Big tip for you.” Then she slowly backed out of the room. I swear, I could feel her eyes staring me down as she retreated. It put the hair on the back of my neck on end, but, hey, this was the job.
“Well, here goes nothing.” I said, wishing I’d brought my rubber gloves as I stuck my hand down into Satan’s bathtub. I felt around at the drain and pulled up a wad of coarse, black hair, holding my breath as I threw it in the trash can. No movement. I went at it again, and again, pulling up more of the stuff with each effort. I tried not to think about where the hair came from. It looked like she had shaved an animal in this thing. Some guests, they just don’t care about hygiene.
Finally, after about a half hour’s work, I heard the drain gurgle, and the water began to whirlpool and recede. I let out a sigh of relief, sitting back to wipe the sweat from my brow. Then I realized where my hands had just been and spent the next minute fighting back vomit. When the tub was empty, I washed my hands, dumped half a bottle of Drano down the drain and walked out to collect my tip. The room was vacant. Of course. The cheap, creepy grandma had ditched out of there. Big tip my ass. She was probably down in the hotel bar, laughing at the sucker stuck pulling her matted hair out of a dirty drain. Magicians, they have some sense of humor.
Sighing, I collected my things and walked out the door with my head held low. If it happened again, I was sending Jeff.
I was halfway to the elevator, when the fire alarm went off. I nearly jumped at the blaring sirens and flashing lights before I realized what it was. Son of a bitch. When it rains, it pours. I took a quick look over my shoulder, expecting to see a hopefully puzzled and not angry head or two poking out of a doorway, but no one was there. Typical. These magic types think they’re invincible. Well, they could figure it out on their own, I didn’t have time to go knocking door to door. I shook my head and took off at a trot towards the stairs.
I yanked open the doorway to the emergency stairs and headed down, taking them three at a time. I nearly tripped over an angry cat sleeping in the shadows of the fourth floor landing. Some witch’s familiar, no doubt. Hopefully she didn’t get a good look at me, or I’d catch an earful for it later. No time to worry about it now.
“What’s going on?” I gasped when I reached the concierge desk, out of breath from my sprint down the stairs. “Jeff, what’s happening?”
“Fire.” Jeff replied, picking at his cuticles.
“You think?” I said, reminding myself that hitting another employee was a good way to get fired. “Where at? Who’s on it?”
“Kitchens. I sent Maintenance down there when the alarm went off.” Jeff said.
“And you didn’t think it was important enough to check out yourself?” I snapped. “It’s a goddamn fire, Jeff. In this hotel. Who knows what caused it. Maintenance isn’t trained to handle guests.”
“Boss told me to man the desk.” Jeff said with a shrug, looking down to break eye contact.
“Of course he did.” I said through gritted teeth. “Stay here, then. I’m going to check it out. Any guests call, you tell them it’s being handled.” No thanks to Jeff.
Jeff nodded as I turned away and took off in the direction of the kitchens. I passed a few surprised guests along the way, but none of them looked too worried. It wasn’t unusual to see a concierge sprinting down the halls of this hotel. It came with the territory.
When I got to the kitchen, Maintenance was there, fire extinguishers in hand. The flames were dying down and the alarm had since been silenced. After a few more blasts from a fire extinguisher, the flames died for good.
“What happened?” I asked the nearest Maintenance man, stopping to rest my hands on my knees. He was an older guy with a caterpillar mustache. I think his name was Bill. There’s a lot of turnover in this hotel.
“Kitchen fire.” Bill sighed, almost bored. “We don’t know what caused it. Nothing special. Went out quickly enough. Lucky it didn’t hit the gas lines or we’d be having a whole other conversation right now. Shit, we wouldn’t be having a conversation at all.”
“Thank God,” I breathed a sigh of relief, standing up to look Bill in the eyes. “You mind if I take a quick peek? Fires in this place, they tend not to be natural.”
“We’ll call the Inspector to come by and look at it in the morning, but, if you want to check it out now, be my guest.” Bill said before turning to his workers. “Boys, pack up your gear and head back downstairs. We’re done here!”
Once Maintenance had departed, I stepped cautiously into the kitchen to inspect the damage. One of the walls was scorched black, and several ceiling tiles had been destroyed. All things considered though, the place had held up pretty well. A little hotel magic goes a long way.
I dusted my hands off and turned to leave the kitchen when I was stopped dead in my tracks. Staring back at me was a black cat. The same black cat I had nearly kicked on my way down the stairs. That itself, however, wasn’t what bothered me. It was her eyes. I had seen those eyes earlier that night. They were the eyes of the disgusting, cheap, bathtub grandma from the ninth floor. That right there, in that moment, that was when it all hit me. All the signs had been there, I just ignored them. An oddly dressed woman, excessive amounts of shedding hair, unexplained fires in the hotel. That woman wasn’t a woman, and that cat wasn’t a cat.
As if responding to my recognition, the cat began to grow larger. Limbs and torso extended in unison as its fangs and eyes grew larger, sharper, and more malicious. It arched its back as it stretched to balance on its hind legs. When it looked at me, I was staring into the eyes of a Bakeneko: supernatural, shapeshifting, monster cats that liked to burn down buildings and reanimate corpses. No wonder the ninth floor had been so quiet.
“Oh fuck.” I whispered, my eyes darting around the kitchen for a weapon. I spied a knife attached to a magnetic rod hanging on the other side of the room. If I could distract the beast somehow, I might have a chance. If she got me and made it back to the ninth floor to raise an army of corpses, this whole place was going down. It was now or never. I reached over and grabbed the nozzle of the industrial sink beside me, pointed it, sprayed, and prayed.
The Bakeneko hissed as the steaming water hit her coat, but it only seemed to make her angry. She lunged towards me and knocked the nozzle from my hands. I hit the ground in a frenzy of fur and spit, twisting and writhing to get her off of me. I could feel razor sharp claws digging into my flesh, but I knew if I stopped it would all be over. I fumbled my fingers towards her face, reaching for those haunting eyes. I dug my fingers in, pushing with all my strength to gouge out her eyes. The beast howled in pain and anger, grabbing my arms and tossing me off. My body went flying through the air, slamming against the kitchen wall before landing on the counter beside the magnetic knife strip. I ignored the throbbing in my shoulder and the ringing in my ears and desperately reached out for the first blade I could get a grip on. I looked over to see the Bakeneko shaking her head as she regained her vision. I whispered a prayer and planned my move. You see, the thing about working as a magic concierge is, you learn a few things, like how to kill pissed off magical creatures.
When the Bakeneko opened her eyes, she thought she had me. She coiled back and sprang at me with all her might, but I barrel rolled off the counter just as her claws were about to sink in. I landed on the grimy kitchen floor to the sound of the Bakeneko smashing into the wall above me. I lurched to my feet and grabbed her swishing tail. Brandishing the knife, I sliced off her tail to an ear-splitting, murderous howl. I took a step back as the beast thrashed and jerked atop the counter, watching slack-jawed as the Bakeneko shrank until all that remained was a common black housecat, mewing softly.
I dropped the knife and collapsed in a heap on the floor, sobbing and laughing in a whirlwind fit of emotions. It was over. I was alive. I had done it.
It was exactly then that Jeff found me, sitting on the kitchen floor laughing, crying, and talking to myself like some kind of lunatic. “Um, you all right?” Jeff asked.
“Peachy, Jeff.” I replied. “Just peachy.”
“Okay… Well, um, apparently there’s a situation on the ninth floor. Boss says it’s all hands on deck.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.” I sputtered. “I just need a minute.”
“Yeah, well… he, um, sounded pretty upset, so I think we should probably head up now. You know how he gets.” Jeff said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “By the way, um… whose cat is that?”
And that’s about the long and short of it all. To put a neat, little bow on it, for those of you who like that sort of thing, Jeff and I went upstairs and talked with the Boss. As I suspected, we spent the rest of the night hauling corpses between the freight elevator and the incinerator. Only eleven guests died in total. Not ideal, but the hotel has seen worse nights. I would guess the Boss had his suspicions about what happened, but he couldn’t prove anything. God knows, I certainly wasn’t going to tell him about a breach in cardinal rule, whatever role I played in it. As far as I’m concerned, everything went about as well as it could have. I took a few licks, learned a few lessons, and lived to fight another day. I just wish I knew how the Bakeneko got into our little hotel. Despite the nature of the job, I can’t shake the feeling that things are getting stranger around here. But our guests are used to strange. They took the mysterious death of eleven souls in stride. After all, they know that when you mess with magic, it tends to mess back.