Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Sadie, Sadie ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

See Chapter One for warnings, disclaimers, notes, etc.

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Chapter Two

Chris hurried into the parlor, intent on asking his brother a question about a bad word T-chan had just used. But to his surprise, Leon had already left -- he'd only arrived about fifteen minutes ago! -- and Count D was standing very still, holding a teapot in one hand and staring at the closed door with the weirdest expression on his face that Chris had ever seen. It looked like he'd just gotten the shock of his life, only the Count was never shocked by anything.

Count? Chris asked tentatively. Where did Leon go?

Count D blinked, twitched, and looked down at Chris in surprise. Which was also weird, because he always heard people coming, even when they tiptoed. "I'm--I'm not sure, Chris," he said. "He was…I suppose he just thought of somewhere he had to be."

Okay, something wasn't right, and Chris felt worry beginning to churn up his stomach. Is he okay? Is something wrong? Even more tentatively, Did you two have another fight?

"I don't know," the Count said, looking back at the door. He was still holding the teapot. Then he seemed to realize how spaced-out he sounded, because he shook his head quickly, and set the pot down on the caddy. He turned to look down at Chris again, and smiled reassuringly. "Ah, I am sorry, Chris. I was a little distracted. Everything is fine."

Chris knew that Pon-chan and T-chan were watching from the doorway, while Q-chan sat on the coffee table, looking intently up at the Count from the remains of the Count's shredded styrofoam cup. Uncomfortable in front of the audience, Chris nevertheless said, Are you sure?

What he wanted the Count to say was, 'Of course I am sure, now stop being so silly.' But instead, the Count's forehead wrinkled a little, like he was thinking hard about something. "Chris," he said, after a moment, "I want to ask you a question, but I do not want you to be alarmed by it. Do you understand?"

Yes, said Chris, who didn't.

"Very well." The Count knelt in front of Chris so they were the same height, which made Chris's stomach knot up some more, because that meant he was being very serious about something. "Chris, please do not take offense at what I say, or let it frighten you. It is merely a question. But I need to know…" The Count took gentle hold of Chris's shoulders while he looked right into his eyes. "Does your family have a history of mental illness?"

M-mental illness?

"Is anybody crazy," T-chan translated from the doorway. Pon-chan gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. The Count flashed T-chan an irritated glance, but didn't correct him, which meant he was right.

I don't think so, Chris said. Then, really worried now, Is my brother sick? Or -- or crazy? Count D always had something insulting to say about Leon, and vice versa, but he'd never say anything that serious if it wasn't really true.

"Of course not," Count D said, but he said it too quickly. "He -- he is behaving a little oddly, however. But do not worry, Chris. We shall get to the bottom of this." His hands tightened on Chris's shoulders, like he was going to give him a squeeze, except that they stayed tight and didn't let up again.

He's gonna be okay, right? Just say yes, Chris thought. That's all you have to say, is yes.

"Oh, yes," the Count said firmly, and the knot in Chris's stomach released at once. "Have no fear." He released Chris's shoulders, stood up again, clasped his hands together and twisted them, and looked around the room with a frown. "Tell me something else -- has your brother mentioned making any new friends, lately? Has he been spending time with any person in particular?"

Nobody new, Chris said. Not that I know about, anyway.

"Callous imbecile," the Count muttered. Chris didn't know exactly what that meant, but he figured they were both words he could add to the very long list of dictionary-words the Count used to insult Leon. "What is he thinking?" Chris knew he wasn't even supposed to try to answer that. Then, suddenly, the Count pressed his fingertips to his red lips, his eyes going wide. "Witchcraft?" he murmured against his hand.

The knot in Chris's stomach came back, only ten times worse, along with the feeling that somebody had just dumped a bucket of ice water over him, he was so scared. Witches?!

"Count," T-chan groaned, "now we'll never get him to sleep tonight."

Count D looked contrite, and patted Chris on the shoulder. Chris tried to stop shivering. "I am sorry, Chris. Do not mind me. I am merely a little distracted tonight. You certainly do not need to fear any witches in this place."

But what about Leon? Chris was trying not to panic. Real men didn't panic, and T-chan would never let him hear the end of it. But was Count D really saying that witches were after his big brother?

"I will protect your brother," the Count said, with the kind of calm determination that set Chris's fears to rest for the second time in as many minutes. "I could be entirely mistaken, of course." He smiled kindly. "But there is no need to take foolish risks, is there? No, no." He dusted his palms together. "Pon-chan, please be so kind as to bring me my herbal. I will mix up some special incense tonight that will cleanse Mr. Detective of any evil spirits that might be lingering around him, and then we will all sleep much easier."

Q-chan fluttered up from the table to land on the Count's shoulder. He never took his beady black eyes off the Count's face. Count D reached an absent hand up to stroke his custard-colored head as he began to cover the tea caddy over. "Chris, will you do something for me, and empty the teapot? The leaves have long overbrewed and will taste bitter. Be careful you do not burn yourself -- it is still very warm."

Sure! Relieved that the Count had a plan in place (of course, he always did), Chris carefully wrapped the pot up in a quilted cozy and carried it into the kitchen. T-chan followed him. "I gotta say," he said, once they were out of the Count's earshot, "he's wrong about this one. For once, he's gotta be wrong."

What do you mean? Chris asked anxiously, tipping the bitter tea down the sink.

"Because there is no way any witch worth anything is going to have any interest in doping up a worthless moron like your brother."

Count D had to come in a few minutes later to give them both a very stern talking-to, and made T-chan clean up the remains of the teapot.

---

The next day was Leon's day off. He usually loved those -- spent at least a few hours of them at the pet shop, hanging with Chris and getting on D's nerves, and trying not to think about any unsolved cases that had been bugging him.

Today he spent his day off pacing around his apartment, actually cleaning up a little bit, because he needed something to do with his hands, and chain-smoking his way through two packs of cigarettes. He opened and closed the ring-box at least twenty-five times, making sure the ring inside hadn't evaporated, or turned green, or sprouted a magical inscription reading 'He'll never marry you.' And he tried to think about what he was going to say.

Shit, he wished Max was still alive. He'd been a good guy, and he'd managed to land a cool fiancée, so he must have had a few tricks up his sleeve. The Chief was married, too, so he had to have proposed, or at least know something about it. Rogers, Davies, those guys were hitched as well. Leon thought about asking for advice, but two seconds later realized it would blow up in his face. Nobody on the force would believe he was just curious, and the gossip would rocket through the corridors. He didn't want that, not yet, when the whole situation felt sketchy as hell anyway. No. He was on his own.

Besides, how much help would those guys be, anyway? They'd probably all followed standard procedure: date a woman, decide you liked her, have a relationship with her, propose. Nobody was going to be able to help him out with D. He'd have to think on his feet, as usual. Play it by ear.

That seemed to work best, where D was concerned. You couldn't plan too much, with D, because conversations never went the way they were supposed to. You'd start off accusing him of murder, and fifteen minutes later you'd be talking about the skin patterns of Amazonian tree frogs. So it was probably better to have one basic line of argument prepared, and plan to stick with it, and keep coming back to it if D tried to get off-topic. Let's get married! It's a good idea! That would do.

He wondered how Chinese people proposed. Maybe D would listen better if Leon did that. He Googled it, and found out that it involved the parents of the bride and groom sending presents to each other, watching out for bad omens, signing contracts, bargaining like you were buying an animal or something, and weeks of waiting. Well, fuck that. D wasn't one of his pets. Leon would have to represent truth, justice, and the American way like always. Maybe D could just wear red at the wedding or something. They'd work it out.

At about seven o'clock, he couldn't take it anymore. He showered, shaved, gargled about three times, changed his clothes, even put on a tie. Then he took the tie off, deciding that D might try to strangle him with it. But he wore his dressy trousers and only suit jacket, after carefully giving them both a sniff. Smelled fresh enough, if slightly musty from being stuffed in the back of his closet. Didn't stink of cigarettes, at least, which was more than he could say for his apartment by now. Leon pocketed the ring, took a lot of deep breaths, and headed for his car.

The pet shop was oddly quiet when he got there. Usually there were animals running everywhere, Chris right in the midst of them, while D sat in the middle and let it all happen around him, somehow managing to keep everything under control. The eye of his own personal hurricane. But tonight, Leon didn't even get nibbled by T-chan when he came through the door, and Chris and D were sitting quietly together on the sofa. It was eerily silent, with no animals in sight, except for Q-chan on D's shoulder. Chris was staring at some weird Chinese wooden puzzle, trying to figure it out, and D was doing -- holy crap, needlework? He was definitely embroidering something on a silk screen. Christ, how girly could you get?

The shop smelled different, too. Leon sniffed, frowning. D had changed the incense. He'd never liked the original all that much, but this was worse -- less sweet, more herb-y. His nose twitched.

D and Chris looked up as he closed the door behind him, taking in his dressy clothes with wide eyes. D was holding really still, with the sharp tip of his needle pointing right up in the air. Chris looked pale. H-hi, Big Bro, he said. How are you feeling today?

"Fine," Leon said, sending D a hard glare. Had he said something to Chris, even after Leon told him not to? Bad start to the evening. He told himself not to get irritated, and reached for patience.

"Good evening, Mr. Detective," D said, just as polite as he'd been last night. He returned to his embroidery. "Would you like some tea?"

"Only if you got it made already," Leon said, deciding that being considerate was the way to go. D and Chris shared a glance that looked kind of spooked.

Then D smiled again, the empty smile he always gave customers, and said, "Chris, why don't you go make sure Pon-chan and T-chan aren't getting into trouble without you?"

Chris was a bright kid, and he knew a clear hint when he heard one. He nodded, gave Leon another worried glance, and scampered for the door. "Hey," Leon called after him, "take that bat-bunny with you." Q-chan looked up from D's shoulder, curiously. "I wanna talk to the Count alone."

Q-chan bristled, but D nodded slowly, and shrugged his shoulder, giving Q-chan a nudge. Q-chan chirped resentfully, but flew off after Chris, giving Leon one last glare. The door closed behind him.

"Did you tell Chris?" Leon demanded with a scowl.

"No," D replied, never looking up from his sissy sewing-stuff.

"Then what's with the attitude he just gave me?"

"Chris has never, to my knowledge, given anyone 'attitude,'" D said with a sniff. "I would wager, if I had to guess, that he was put off by your unusual attire." He finally gave Leon a sidelong, hesitant glance. "I take it this means you have…have proposed to the young lady, or…"

"Not yet," Leon said. "That's on the agenda for tonight, though."

"Ah." D's body movements were almost always subtle if he was trying to hide something. But because he was looking for it, Leon saw how he relaxed, just a fraction. "And you have come here to shore up your courage first?" he asked, sounding almost cheerful now.

"Something like that."

"Well, that is what friends are for, is it not?" D set the embroidery aside, rose to his feet, and glided over to a censer that hung from the ceiling, taking it off its hook. "Oh, by the way, I am trying a new blend of incense. I would like your opinion."

"It stinks," Leon said frankly. "I liked the old kind better."

D was still smiling when he turned around, holding the censer from a long chain, but the smile looked strained. "Oh, come now. Perhaps it will grow on you. Here."

He shoved it right under Leon's nose so that Leon got a real snootful. He almost choked, and had to turn away before he sneezed all over D. "Ugh! Jesus! Cut that out!"

D pulled the censer away, and frowned. "You…don't like it?"

"What did I just say?" Leon tried to put a lid on his temper. Pissing D off from the get-go was a bad, bad idea. "I mean, sorry. I mean…no."

"Oh," D said, and now he looked stymied by something. "Oh…well."

"Well, sorry," Leon said, trying not to huff. "It just smells like rotting plants."

"I…I see," D said. "I suppose I thought you might react differently. Well. Never mind, then." He put the censer down, gave Leon another slightly-spooked look, then returned to the sofa and picked up his embroidery again.

"What the heck is that?" Leon asked. "I never saw you sew before."

D shot him a glare that could have leveled the city. "You mean besides the time I repaired that hole in your jacket sleeve for you?"

Leon turned crimson. "Yeah, besides that. I mean…"

"As it happens," D said crisply, "this is a Chinese banner for luck. It reads, 'Best Outcome.' It is designed to bring about the most…propitious circumstances for a situation. I thought it was appropriate."

Leon blinked. "You made that to wish me good luck? That's…" Weird. "…nice of you."

D sharply drew the needle through the screen. "Don't thank me yet, Detective. After all, who knows what kind of outcome might be the most fortunate? We can never truly know the future. That is the point of this banner: that we acknowledge that our own best interests are often beyond our understanding." His voice took on a challenging tone. "Perhaps, after all, you will be happier in the long run if you are unsuccessful with this woman, right now."

Leon knew D expected him to blow up at that. Instead, he just kept his hands in his pockets, and stood looking at D as he said, calmly, "Nope."

"Really." D's lips tightened as he kept sewing away, faster than before. "Mr. Detective, I am sure this is not what you want to hear…"

"Never stopped you before," Leon muttered, coming to stand by the sofa.

"…but," D continued, his voice turning to acid, "are you quite certain you really know enough about this person? I know you are rash, often foolhardy. But I would have thought that something like this would have been beyond even you."

"That's why I need somebody like this," Leon said. "They're smart. Don't take any crap. Can talk some sense into me sometimes."

"Thank heavens for small favors," D muttered. "Really, Detective. Who is this woman who has you so enraptured? What does she do? How did you meet?"

"Runs a business," Leon said. "We met on the job, when I was investigating a case there. Got to talking. I don't find a lot of people I can talk to."

D had his silkscreen in a white-knuckled grip, and tilted his head forward so that Leon couldn't see his face through his hair. Leon took a deep breath, knowing it was futile to try and slow down his hammering heart. Getting down to the moment, now. He sat down by D on the sofa, and decided he'd feel a lot safer if D would just put down the needle.

"That's lovely, of course," D said, his voice strained, "but hardly a reason for -- "

"I got lots of reasons," Leon said. "Good ones."

D took a deep breath, too, though it looked like calm wasn't coming any easier to him than it was to Leon. "I'm sure you do," he said through his teeth. "But really. You told me yesterday that it was 'sudden.' How much can you possibly know about her?"

"Not much," Leon admitted. "Planning to change that real soon." Because that did kind of bug him -- he talked to D, sure, but D didn't return the favor a whole lot. And when he did, he never volunteered anything really personal. Leon realized he didn't even know how old D was, exactly. Looked like he had a long list to cover.

"For example," D continued, as if he had a set speech in his mind that he was bound and determined to get through, no matter what Leon said, "what are her goals? Does she want a family? What sort of people are her family? You can learn a great deal from that, you know."

"Don't know about goals or anything," Leon said, and took the deepest deep breath ever without passing out. Time to go for broke. "As for family, he's got a grandfather, a father, and a sister, that I know about. I only met the sister once. He never talks about his dad. And the grandfather owns the pet shop he works at."

Leon had never seen anybody freeze as absolutely still as D did, in that moment. He even seemed to stop breathing. Well, that was it -- no turning back now. He pulled the box out of his pocket and flipped the lid open so that the gold band winked dully in the dim light of the shop. It was a nice ring. It even had a few tiny diamonds embedded in it. Nothing fancy or expensive, but Leon thought it looked like something D would like, all the same.

D turned, very, very slowly, to look at Leon with eyes as big as teacup saucers. He looked down at the ring in the box, and then back up at Leon, his lips parting slightly.

"Don't freak out," Leon said, keeping his voice as low and even as he could manage, like he was talking to a scared animal. Because, suddenly, he was. "Just say yes."