Chapter 27: Gossip and Grime

Mavis nearly knocked Johnny over when he made his way outside.

"Johnny, check this out!" She was brandishing a new bow, all black and sleek and cool. She drew back an arrow, carefully trained on the target across the courtyard. She launched the arrow, and it sailed straight into the target.

"Pretty rad," he perked up a little but he lacked the energy to adequately provide much enthusiasm.

"Are you okay?" Mavis lowered her bow.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, shoot another one."

"No, really, you seem kinda down," Mavis pressed on.

"I'm just getting a weird, not cool kinda vibe from everybody," Johnny explained. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I know it sounds dumb."

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," Mavis said, hoping to sound encouraging.

Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where's Medusa anyway?"

"Frank said Dad needed her for something," Mavis shrugged.

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he started to smile.

"What?" Mavis felt like she missed the punchline to a human joke.

Johnny told her about walking in on Dracula and Medusa mid-waltz, or whatever that was. Mavis listened very still at first, and then slowly started to collect her arrows. Johnny didn't really register it as a distraction and kept going.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Mavis admitted once Johnny was finished. She marched past him, back into the hotel.

"You don't think he might have a little crush on her? Like, even a little one?" he scrambled to catch up with his girlfriend. His voice squeaked on the word "little", to emphasize it.

"Johnny, I know you mean well, but don't try to play matchmaker with Dad, okay?"

"I'm not, I'm not," he insisted. "I'm just calling it like I see it."

"You also thought one of the maids had a crush on him," she reminded him.

"She totally did! How am I the only one that noticed that?"

"It doesn't matter," Mavis insisted. "Dad doesn't date. Dad doesn't fall in love."

"Why not?"

Mavis looked surprised, like she hadn't expected she'd actually have to explain it. It was only common knowledge. She thought it was something Johnny had understood. "Cause he already did. He had my mom. You only zing once, remember?" She hooked her bow over her shoulder, letting it hang diagonally across her back the way she'd seen Medusa wear hers.

"I guess I didn't think that meant once, once?" Johnny struggled to find a way to make that sentence make sense. "I mean I get what 'once' means. But I just figured, y'know stuff happens. Back home people get remarried sometimes."

"They do?" Mavis stopped in her tracks, very interested in the new information.

"Sure. My parents both remarried."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they both had been married and divorced once before they met. Then they married each other and had me. That's how I got six older brothers. My mom had four sons and my dad had two and the whole family combined when they got married."

"But what happened to the people they were with before? Did they die?"

"No, they divorced. They split up."

Mavis looked horrified. "Split up? Why?"

"They just- split up. They decided they didn't want to be married anymore." Johnny said it casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That sounds awful."

"Well, it probably wasn't great at the time," he reasoned. "But it worked out. They're happy. And I got this rad, huge family out of it, so," he lifted both thumbs.

"Vampires never divorce," Mavis explained, still considering the concept. What if, somewhere down the road Johnny wanted to divorce? True, they weren't even married yet, but what if they did and he suddenly changed his mind? What would she do then? Why would humans risk getting married in the first place if there were no guarantees on how long it would last?

"How long do humans usually stay married?" she asked.

"Like, in general? I have no clue," Johnny shrugged. "My parents have been married twenty-four years almost," he said, as though the number were impressive.

Twenty-four years. She'd had pets that lived longer than twenty-four years. She was still riding a tricycle at twenty-four years. Mavis knew that Johnny was actually twenty-one, not one hundred twenty one like he'd originally told her, but the reality of his age had never fully sunk in before, how short a time that was. He was a young adult just like she was. But that meant something different to a human. How much of a lifespan did he realistically have left? Maybe it wasn't just a matter of semantics. Maybe humans and monsters really were just too different.

"So I guess vampires don't ever remarry, huh?" Johnny asked.

"Not that I've ever heard."

"Not even if you wanted to? That's- kind of sad."

Mavis crinkled her nose. She'd never thought of it as sad before. "It's just the way it is," she said finally.


Dracula took a deep breath of clear, steamless air the second he made it out of that boiler room.

"Hey, how's it going, Drac?" Frankenstein waved from across the hall. He had an elbow propped up on the metal banister that led down to the maintenance hall, as if he had been waiting there awhile specifically for Dracula to appear.

"Frank, you busybody, I ought to have every one of your stitches pulled."

"What? What'd I do?" Frank pulled his innocent monster voice.

Dracula glided straight past him, deciding it was better not to dignify that with a response. Frank followed close at his heels.

"You weren't trying to avoid her, were you?" he asked pointedly.

"Of course not. I just-I'm very-there's a lot going on and I'm very busy right now."

"That's why I thought you could use the help."

"I'm fine," he replied, strongly hinting that Frank should just drop it already.

"Look, you want my advice," Frank said, following the vampire into the lobby.

"Not particularly."

"You're thinking about this way too hard."

"At least I am thinking-" he approached a suit of armor guarding the front desk. "Has Ghoulagin been located?" he asked the sentry, half ignoring Frank.

"I'm not saying you should marry her, just be nice to her. You shouldn't avoid her cause we were teasing you about a little dance."

"What dance?" Mavis dropped in, transforming from her bat form to land just shy of the long desk. Johnny trailed a good yard or so behind her.

Dracula startled at her sudden appearance, "Would everyone stop doing that?" he muttered between gritted teeth.

"Dad, have you been in the dining room? It's freezing," Mavis got straight to the point.

"Technical difficulties, honey, we're working on it." Dracula explained. He turned to the suit of armor who gave him the quick report.

"No reports of Mr. Ghoulagin, sir."

"Wait, what happened to Ghoulagin?" Mavis' voice spiked, clearly growing concerned.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie. We've got it covered." Dracula put an arm around his daughter, subtly edging her away from the others. "You can eat in your room this time if you want to."

"It doesn't really bother me, Dad. But Johnny can get sick if it's too cold and some of the guests were complaining," Mavis said. "We thought we could move everybody into the ballroom until the heat's back on."

"Not a bad idea." The ballroom ran on a different boiler for heat. It was a whole floor away from the dining room and he could already hear the wait staff complaining about the extra long trek between the ballroom and the kitchen. They could set up the buffet tables for dinner, like an impromptu party. "Why don't you and Johnny set up the tables, and I'll go talk to our chef."

"Sure. What happened to the heat?"

"I'll worry about that. Go, set up the ballroom."

"I'll go with you," Frank volunteered. As the two were leaving the lobby, Frank turned, mouthed 'be nice' in an exaggerated manner, and turned back around before Mavis noticed.

Dracula's eyes rolled.


The tables were all pushed into one corner of the ballroom. Eyes were shut on all the tablecloths, some light snoring noises coming from the group.

"Up and at 'em, dudes!" Johnny flipped on the lights. Each of the electric hanging chandeliers came on in sequence until the large room was flooded with light.

Mavis clasped her hands. Johnny had pretty much developed table surfing into a sport, albeit an inexact one. The only way of losing is getting knocked off the table and pretty much everything else was fair game.

"Race ya," Mavis shouted, jumping up into the air and flying towards the cluster of tables.

Johnny took off after her, more energized than he felt in a long time. He leapt onto the nearest table, balancing on it like a surf board.

They set up the food tables in one, straight line down the center of the ballroom. The round guest tables situated in random patterns on either side. They sped over and around each other. Johnny made up for a lack of flying ability with many summers' experience on skateboards and surfboards. He'd mastered the art of jumping from one table to other while still in motion. Johnny landed on Mavis's table midflight, causing the whole thing to sway and swerve dramatically. Mavis shrieked and dropped over the edge. For a second, Johnny's instincts that he'd just thrown his girlfriend several feet to the floor off a moving object kicked in and he grabbed the edge of the table in a whirlwind panic, peering over with his stomach in his throat.

"Johnny-" Mavis stood, upside down on the bottom of the table, staring up at him with a scowl.

"Sorry, babe," Johnny winced sheepishly.

Mavis walked around the table and into the air. Still floating, she righted herself, grabbed the tablecloth with both hands, and ripped it out from under him. The table, and by extension Johnny, dropped instantly.

"Maaaavis!" Johnny yelled, flailing wildly.

She swooped down, grabbing Johnny by his shoulders and pulling him along through the air. "Serves you right," she said smugly.

It took far longer than necessary with all their goofing off. By the time the room was set up, both were laughing harder than they had in a long time. The only thing left was to bring out the food.

Mavis went down to the kitchen through one of the back doors. She started to push open and stopped when she heard harsh whispering from the other side. "First Ghoulgin, then Calliope, who else?"

Mavis's hand froze on the doorknob. Instead of entering outright, she cracked the door open.

Two of the witch maids were whispering to one of the gargoyles in the dim light. "It can't be a coincidence. He appears and then we start disappearing." The gargoyle nodded gruffly.

"My niece is supposed to start working here in the spring. What am I supposed to tell her?"

"I knew humans were a bad idea. I said so, Margaret, didn't I say so."

"We all did, dear."

"And Dracula's not going to do anything about it."

"He's too taken in with him. You don't think they've taken over his mind?"

"It's difficult to tell," the witch clicked her tongue. "I'd be more concerned about the daughter."

"Oh, you don't think..."

"I hate to say it, but none of this would have happened if it hadn't been for her."

Mavis couldn't hear anymore. She raced from the kitchen with a knot in her stomach and an uncontrollable heat boiling through her like a fever. This was what being sick must feel like.


Dracula was beginning to wonder if his employees had gone on strike without telling him. Multiple people had reported multiple staff-members failure to report to their respective shifts, the number growing throughout the night. They still hadn't heard from Ghoulagin. Or Stevens. Or Calliope. Or basically anyone that wasn't currently working overtime to make up for the missing staff.

He had spent many a harrowing, lonely morning fighting off a variety of dreams themed around the hotel coming to ruin and it was never like this. It was always an outside force descending suddenly, without warning, attacking the place with fire and noise and bombast. The sudden, mysterious disappearances, monsters going unaccounted for without reason, was disturbingly different. He could hear others whispering about it in the halls. Rumors were flying. Conspiracy theories had materialized overnight. Maybe there was a bodysnatcher in the hotel. Perhaps the missing monsters were lured outside in a trance and gotten lost or gobbled up. Maybe it was the human.

Dracula didn't understand how anyone could look at Johnny and assume he'd be responsible for one mysterious disappearance, let alone a dozen. Some were saying he commanded a mob of humans that had infiltrated the hotel in disguise. Some said the boy might have a devious, second personality inhabiting his body, completely unknown even to the real Johnny. He didn't think anyone took those rumors seriously. Not yet, anyway. At least his staff had some imagination.

Robertson reported in, a top to bottom search of the hotel had uncovered nothing. No unaccounted footprints in the snow. No missing belongings or cleaned out lockers. No witnesses. Sentries positioned around the hotel's perimeter noticed nothing. It was a disturbing mystery.

As if the missing staff wasn't enough, the lack of heat and hot water on the kitchen floor was generating complaints. Dracula was experienced at playing it cool in the face of criticism, even if each complaint felt like it was twisting a cord in him, bit by bit. He was undeniably tense. And after four hours, the bloody boiler still wasn't fixed.

When he walked in there was a loud racket coming from the broken boiler. He approached with his hands clamped over his ears, hovering over the huddle of zombies. He couldn't make out a solitary thing that was going on.

"How's it coming?" he shouted over the noise. When no one heard or noticed, he cleared his own path to the boiler. Medusa's knees poked out of the maintenance hatch, the rest of her lying inside the machine with whatever was making all the noise. For a second he didn't know what to do. Tentatively, he tapped on her shoe until she moved, gripping the edge of the hatch with one hand and pulling herself halfway out.

Dracula made a slashing motion across his neck. She seemed to understand and shut off the equipment. The horrible noise stopped instantly.

"How's it coming?"

"Well, this doesn't look good. Here, hold this," Medusa thrust it in his direction a long, copper pipe, completely blackened with soot and grime and whatever else. Not wanting to actually touch it, Dracula took it from her telekinetically, holding it midair, unsure what to do with it. A slight, swollen bend warped it's middle, creating a little bump. There was a crooked cut at one end, like it had been sawed off. Dracula stared in distaste at the elaborate dirty saw tool hovering over his hands and quickly passed it off to the nearest zombie.

"There's a couple more we're trying to take apart. You're lucky the whole thing shut down and didn't overheat."

"Lucky? Lucky!?" Dracula literally felt the vein pulsing at his neck. Something brushed against his cape and Dracula whirled to the side just as a broom swept a huge cloud of soot near his feet.

"Hey, hey, don't go sweeping that behind the crates like last time! I want it thrown out!" He bellowed.

"Not much of a dirt and soot man, are ya?" Medusa observed, casually leaning against the boiler.

"It's laziness is what it is," he insisted, gesturing at the zombie.

Medusa wiped at her forehead with her sleeve. It left behind a messy, dark streak. "Still haven't found Ghoulagin?"

Dracula lost it. "No, thanks for asking. Not a trace. And I now have another bellhop crew missing, half my surveillance team is out looking for encroaching crazy people, my boiler's melting from the inside, the dining room's freezing over, I've got guests on seven floors reading me the riot act and-"

"Whoa, whoa," Medusa was in front of him suddenly, stopping him mid rant with one hand hovering close over his mouth and nose. Dracula froze, stunned. "One problem at a time, huh?" she said.

Dracula stopped, almost afraid to move. His heart jumped into his throat, it felt as if she had touched him, even though her hand hovered an inch away. He hadn't realized how loud and keyed up he had gotten before she stopped him. Suddenly realizing they were basically surrounded by zombie workers, he lashed out at them. "What are you standing around for?" he glared. They got the message and began to amble away for something to look busy.

"You are wound up like a spring," she said. It should've been insulting but there was an air of good humor in it, like it was almost endearing. There was a small, extra crease at the corner of her smile he had never noticed before. "Let's take a break," she handed off her saw to the nearest zombie. "Try to find a pipe that matches other one," she instructed him.

She started to walk away, motioning for Dracula to follow, "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"What?" Nobody told him to take a break. He didn't need breaks. Especially when literally everything was going so wrong. It was ridiculous. Unheard of, even.

"I don't have time-" he started.

"Just fifteen minutes, it'll be fine."

"What about-?"

"The boiler will be just as broken when we get back. Let's go."

"I don't-"

"Dracula," she stepped into his space again, calm and authoritative, every snake on her head twisted towards him. "You need a break," to punctuate it this time she pressed a finger to his nose in one bold move, and for a moment Dracula was certain his whole head had ignited. Her finger ran down his nose in a very deliberate swipe. In the clouded reflection off the metal boiler he could see one, long, dark streak down the middle of his face. The sensation it left struck through him, straight down into the floor.

"We should clean up, c'mon." She waved a darkened, soot-covered palm his direction while backing towards the stairs. Dracula was paralyzed, and faintly dizzy. Staring after her with bulging eyes, heart pounding in escalating dread and horror, realization sunk in.

"Holy rabies."


A/N: Johnny's siblings: I know I wasn't the only person underwhelmed when they seemed to drop the Johnny is a seventh son idea in the sequel. I guess he has a brother and a sister? Since I'm pretty much wholly ignoring the sequel for this story anyway I kept the six older brothers thing. Johnny being part of a huge, blended family just made sense with me.