Velli

The steam fights against us. A humid, almost solid, cloudy presence that pulls big breaths from our throats and, worst of all, camouflages our potential foes. We might as well be in one of the ancient jungles that existed before the Rain. Pictures of the Sinharaja Forest, the Daintree, and the Amazon come to mind. Except rather than full of lush, thick greenery that holds mysteries and underfed predators stalking humans behind the scenes, this room has thick, blinding white steam and overfed humans eating humans, their laughter echoing against the walls.

We leave the door open, hoping more steam will leave. It does, slowly.

The hot tub flashes in front of us before being covered by steam again. It’s impressive. It’s an imitation of the ancient Roman tubs. Six marble pillars circle the tub, and on the walls, drawings of Plato and Socrates gaze upon the steam-covered pool. We trudge forward, staring at each white wisp of smoke like it contains a puma.

“Splish, splash, splish, splash,” each step says the closer we get to the pool. A splash of hot water bursts from the pool. I leap back and draw my gun, waiting for something big to jump out. Nothing does. Frivolous laughter and the squish of water in my socks are the sole sounds.

Guns drawn, Dream and I wait for the mist to depart to behold our new enemies.

Perfect bodies pack the pool to the edges until they’re pouring out of it. They rock from side to side in a chaotic wave. Body bumps body. Couples and throuples float in single-person circular tubes or grand inflatable furniture. And they’re all chewing. Chewing on kebab sticks they’ve scattered throughout the pool. Red pieces of meat float around. Grease mixes with the pool water to make a bizarre smell, a mix of chlorine and a fast-food kitchen.

It’s easy to see who came to eat human flesh and who’s merely a date. Everyone imagines the freaks, the cannibals, etc., are always fat because of their lust to stuff themselves with the strange. No. Genetics, surgery, and an exercise regimen ensure their insatiable hunger stays hidden. It’s in the eyes. One guy—handsome, tan, with big curly hair—stares at me, but his eyes… We make eye contact, but something behind me, right on my shoulders, has all his attention—something that doesn’t exist. Soulless eyes.

The girl who massages him drops her eyes in shame when we make eye contact, but I got a look. Hers aren’t too far from being like his.

I wonder what Dream’s eyes will look like after hanging with you, ghost.

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There’s one spot where no one dares swim. All the way on the far side of the pool. The steam covers it. I know that’s where Mogvaz is. His guests are too afraid to be caught alone with him, in case he gets hungry. The child might be some sort of dessert. We have some time to wait for all the steam to clear, and hopefully, the plan I made with Isaz’s phone will—

“Mogvaz Main!” Dream screams to the room.

If Mogvaz can hear us, he ignores us. Thank Division. My secret weapon isn’t here yet, and Mogvaz isn’t someone I want to fight when I can’t—

“Mogvaz Main!” Dream repeats. “Velli Greene and Dream Tower would like to speak with you.”

The ground shakes. Sticky bodies slap against one another. Water splashes on us.

I grab Dream from behind and hold her tight. “Don’t move,” I tell her.

It’s a stampede. The crowd runs past us and through the door to avoid Dream.

Someone slips. Fellow foodies trample him in their quest for safety. The snap of his bones makes me queasy. They sound like fresh bags of chips being crushed, a conveyor belt of new chips being made then meeting their end by a powerful and heavy piece of machinery, a merciless never-ending crunch after disgusting crunch. He lets out a string of swears that switches to a melody of pleading. Eventually, scrambling feet and the squish of wet bodies bury his scream.

Did you hear that, Velli? As soon as she said her last name, they ran. Her family name holds weight, Velli.

The half-naked cannibals bump and bombard us.

How’s that make you feel?

My feet shift and slide on the pool floor, but I refuse to fall.

How’s that make you feel? That’s why her sister hates you, y’know?

I do not fall while my arms are around Dream.

Your name holds nothing. And you are nothing.

The stampede is over. Most of the mist left with them. Its absence reveals a barren pool filled with half-eaten kebabs, a floating dead body, and hidden in the mist, Mogvaz’s imposing figure. Mogvaz’s dry, desertlike fingers rest outside the mist and on the edge of the pool. His rough chest, filled with cracks and tattoos, beats up and down, as scaly as an armadillo and as hard as steel. My research tells me his skin is reptilian in nature. His infamous portraitesque tattoos draw my eye. They’re all in a hyperrealism that I thought would be impossible to get on flesh or whatever Mogvaz’s skin is called. They are of every exotic thing he has eaten. One is a drawing of a rhino with an X over it, an elephant that breathes fire with an X over it in the same style, and in the same fashion an X over a man with purple skin and plants coming from his back. The mist moves to cover Mogvaz again.

“Mogvaz Main,” I say and let go of Dream. “Come out. We want that child back. He’s under our protection.”

“No,” the invisible man-eater says. “You want to make a deal with me, strip down to your skinnies and come in the pool.”

Dream and I nod at each other and strip. We prepared for this, both of us wearing casual swimwear underneath. Dream wears a white one-piece, and I’m in my gray swim trunks. Could we just decide to go in our underwear? Sure, but it’s a power move. We want to look like we planned this. He just wants us embarrassed and afraid.

I can feel your heart rate, Velli. You’re one of those.

I step ahead of Dream and descend the steps of the pool through the fog to battle the man known as Mogvaz.