Enter the Janitor (The Cleaners) (Volume 1) Read Free Page A

After shaking like a wet dog, the beast opened its maw as if to howl. Instead, it vomited a stringy black mass at the redhead. The sputum slapped her against the wall beside the door, where she stuck fast, feet dangling a few inches above the floor.
    She writhed, eyes bugging, and keened, “Ohgodohgodohgodohgod …”
    The blot-hound hunched, but Ben stepped in as it lunged. He caught it across the spine and slammed it to the ground, where it thrashed. Claws raked the legs of his jumpsuit but failed to shred the material.
    Ben plunged the mop into the beast’s body, aiming for the core of Corruption that enlivened it. When the mop connected with a hard ball in the blot-hound’s chest, he twisted the handle and sent another surge of energy through it. Cloth strands twined around the ball and he wrenched upward, drawing the core out as it trailed black ichor.
    The blot-hound screeched and kicked before going limp. Eyes dulled, its form began to ooze into the floor. Ben crushed the core beneath a heel and then waited until the trembling in his arms faded before going to the girl.
    She stared, teeth chattering. “Wh … who are you? What was that … th-thing? Is it infectious?”
    “You’re in college and can’t even read?” He tapped the name threaded on his uniform. “I’m Ben. And that was somethin’ you wouldn’t have had to worry about if you’d stayed out like I toldja.”
    A splash of bleach water dissolved the sludge pinning her to the wall, and she dropped to her knees. Wet blotches stained her pant legs and crotch, but Ben pretended not to notice.
    She huddled in on herself, shoulders heaving as she came dangerously close to hyperventilating. Ben sighed and leaned on the mop as the effort of eradicating the blot-hound caught up with his failing body.
    “Don’tcha worry. The scrub-team’ll get here soon to give your memories a nice hose-down. By the time they’re done, you won’t even remember me. Ain’t that a relief?”
    She blinked up at him, and he recognized the distant look people got when events didn’t align with their neat and tidy version of reality.
    “Are you some sort of … crazy person?” she asked. “Please tell me it isn’t contagious.”
    Ben grinned. “Crazy is the easiest explanation, ain’t it? Run with that and you’ll be just fine.” He frowned and flexed his right arm, which continued to burn. Why hadn’t the pain faded?
    Shouts came from out in the library, along with chairs being overturned and feet thumping. The scuffle in the bathroom hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jason had better be running interference.
    The girl whimpered and dropped to her butt, trembling.
    Ben shook his head. “Look, princess, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m the good type of crazy—”
    A scraping noise jerked him around in alarm. Yellow light flared in the blot-hound’s eyes as it clawed up, standing twice as tall as before, reformed legs knotted with muscle. The head rose, now as big as Ben’s torso and sporting slavering fangs. As the blot-hound fixed on him, a hungry growl made his guts quiver.
    “Oh, cleanse my colon.” He snatched the radio from his toppled cart and hollered into it. “Francis, I need backup. Now!”
    ***

Chapter Two
    The radio sputtered and the red power light flickered like a parting wink from the Devil. Cursing, Ben swept the mop along as he ran back and forth as fast as his arthritic knees allowed.
    Carl splashed in the spray bottle, making it sway on his belt.
    Ben grunted. “Shaddup. This is—” He skidded on a puddle and avoided face-planting by bracing on the mop. The tip jammed into his chest, and he wheezed. “I got it … under control.”
    The water made a spitting noise.
    “Yes, I’m sure!”
    Regaining his balance, he slapped the mop on the floor and activated the quarantine spell. All the spilled water from his cart flowed together and formed an inch-high band from one side of the bathroom to the other. He knelt and pressed a hand into this,