Man-Eater 07 (revised) Petshop of Horrors
Dec. 18th, 2005 04:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeI wasn't entirely happy with what I wrote for this chapter so I decided to edit it a bit. Unfortunately, chapter eight will need to be TOTALLY rewritten before I submit it anywhere. ^^'
Disclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi. Language, Violence
Title: Man-Eater
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial' and Story Two in the Arc, which takes place before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
The hallway just outside of Leon’s apartment door was as deserted as it had been upon his arrival earlier in the afternoon. D glanced down one length of the hall, then the other to make sure there was no one nearby, straining his ears for any voices or footfalls. Finally he took a few tentative steps towards the entrance of the stairwell, his heart and mind racing.
He half expected Leon to come bursting out of his apartment, voice raised and his signature temper flaring, but he heard not the slightest sound from behind the detective’s door. Part of him wished that Leon would come after him, demanding an explanation, ranting and raging in typical Leon fashion and he was a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. But the more rational part of his mind felt only the greatest relief that he was able to get away from such an awkward situation as easily as he had.
“Leon…” The word passed his lips barely more than a whisper, but there was no denying the sadness in D’s voice.
‘It’s better this way,’ he thought desperately, ‘Safer… for both of us…’
For a moment his strength failed him and D’s body sagged as his legs momentarily gave way. He flung out one hand in order to catch himself from falling and leaned up against the wall, head bowed, his breathing harsh, dark hair falling forward to curtain the pale triangle of his face. His free hand flew to his mouth, the fingers tracing the soft contours of his lips.
A small sound of longing escaped D’s throat when he realized that he could still taste Leon’s kisses on his lips. The memory of their heat still danced along his lips, raced along his body, scalding him, wracking him with subtle spasms of desire. Dropping his head into his hands, he struggled to suppress the memories and sensations that assaulted him. But they were too new, too fierce.
“What have I done?” he whispered hoarsely through his fingers. “Oh, what have I done?”
The last of the sun’s light to fade completely from the picture window at the end of the hall. Darkness enveloped him and he cast a quick glance up towards the ceiling, expecting the florescent lights to flicker on now that all light had faded from the hallway, but they remained dark.
Pulling himself away from the wall, he ran one hand through his hair in an effort to smooth it. He smoothed his hair and straightened his robes as best he could. With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, threw up his head, and began walking, his footsteps firm and determined.
Once outside the protection of the apartment building, the wind howled and roared around him, colder now that the sun had set. The force of it whipped his hair into a wild frenzy, stole his breath away, and slapped cold color into his pale cheeks. He shivered and suddenly realized that he had left his jacket in Leon’s apartment.
“I can’t go back for it, not now,” D muttered and began walking.
The wind screamed and whooped around him, sucking the very air from his lungs and plucking insistently at his clothes. The scent and taste of the ocean was being carried on the violent air currents, and it permeated his senses, obscuring all else. He raised one arm, ducked his head beneath its meager cover, and squint his eyes against the force of the wind and continued walking.
A few minutes later he stumbled and only managed to catch himself in time to avoid a nasty fall. He peered down at his feet, trying to see what it was that had caused him to trip. The street lights a few feet ahead of where he stood were dim and flickering and he was currently standing in the dark shadows cast of a rather large and scraggly looking tree, but he could just make out that the sidewalk at his feet and directly ahead was a mass of cracks and fissures. Torn and buckled from earthquakes past, the cement was full potholes and other imperfections that could easily break or sprain the ankles of the unwary. The street itself wasn’t much better nor was the twisted stretch of grass and weeds that marched off towards the apartment’s so-called court yard.
“How in the world did I manage to miss this happy little obstacle course?” D wondered aloud as he stared at the broken remains of the sidewalk, spotted here and there by rather ugly and uninspired splashes of graffiti. ‘Street art’ some people called it, but to him it would always be nothing more than mischievous acts of vandalism by teenagers who couldn’t find a more constructive manner in which to express their budding creativity.
With the benefit of sunlight earlier this afternoon, he had been able to steer through this obstacle without any problems. But now that the sun had set, navigating became a bit trickier. He was forced to wonder again why Leon insisted on living in such a derelict neighborhood. Surely with his salary he could afford somewhere just a little bit nicer, couldn’t he?
“Someone really ought to inform the City that the sidewalks in this neighborhood are in the most horrible condition,” D muttered to himself as he slowly picked his way through the crumbling cement. “It’s no wonder I’ve never seen anyone walking around here. It’s dangerous.”
D uttered a small sound of pique as a small hunk of rubble tumbled under his weight, causing him to pitch forward. A brief flash of pain from his ankle drew another small gasp from him. He felt one of his feet actually slip free from his shoes as he stumbled forward a few steps, hopping and pin-wheeling his arms before he was able to recover his balance.
“My God, this place is a death trap and a lawsuit just waiting to happen!” D exclaimed angrily, crouching down for his shoe, which was now covered in dirt and crumbling bits of debris.
He stood haughtily and slapped the shoe against his leg to knock away the dirt then unceremoniously dumped it upside down to make sure there were no foreign objects trapped in the shoe. A few small pebbles fell out and bounced along the cement. One more shake and a quick peer into the shoe convinced him that there was nothing else hiding within its depths. D slid the shoe back onto his foot and continued walking, this time making sure to watch where he going with special care.
As he continued walking on, D, eyes to the ground, sensed the buildings falling away from him on his left. His nose twitched as he caught the first distasteful reek of garbage. A quick glance to the side confirmed that he was indeed passing the alley where several of the apartment complex’s many dumpsters were kept. A powerful stench of wet rot and decay wafted from the confined space, making D’s stomach lurch. Pulling a face of disgust, he fished one hand into a hidden pocket, dragged out a scented lace handkerchief with his initial embroidered along the hem in a flowing Diane script, and proceeded to press it lightly against his nose. His favorite cologne enveloped him, and he inhaled deeply, but it wasn’t strong enough to completely block out the foul odor.
From somewhere deep in the darkness of the alley D heard a rustling of plastic garbage bags and the muted clinks of their contents rubbing and tumbling within their confines. Casting a cautious glace around him to make sure he was alone he then turned his attention to the alley. For a moment he thought he saw movement a few feet away, but it was so dark that it was impossible to say for sure.
More movement caught his eye, he was sure of it now, the flash of something either glass or metal as it caught the dim light of the moon followed by more rustlings that sounded almost… stealthy. He believed that it, whatever ‘it’ was, was closer now... much closer.
‘Rats,’ D thought absently.
‘Yes, it must be rats,’ he rationalized, ‘This is just the sort of habitat so many of the wild ones seem to enjoy, though dark and smelly alleys riddled with garbage would never be top ten on MY list of places to live.’
D might rationalize that it could be rats making that oh so stealthy noise that continued to creep closer, but none of his senses gave him any indication that there were any rats currently taking up residence amongst the garbage that littered the alley. The air, though rank enough, lacked the familiar undercurrent of rodent droppings that was a telltale sign that rats were present in mass numbers. His ears caught no squeaks or squeals, his eyes saw no red glittering of eyes slinking close to the ground.
With one more searching glance into the darkness, D turned on his heels, intent on getting home.
‘It’s getting late, and Chris and the others –‘
D’s train of thought was derailed as he ran into something warm… and very solid. He recoiled, one hand flying to his chest with a wordless exclamation of.
The solid something turned out to be a surprisingly tall Oriental man who stood blocking his route. The stranger, partially hidden in a pool of shadows, was wearing dark shades, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket with many decorative metal studs that gleamed mutely in the dim light thrown off by one of the distant street lights. He said not a word to D, and only peered over the rim of his expensive looking shades at the horrified Count.
“Oh, I am so sorry, sir,” D murmured. He bowed low at the waist, hair falling forward to hide his face. “Please forgive me. I should have been watching were I was going.”
When the stranger didn’t respond, D straightened up slowly, his eyes traveling up until he was looking the stranger in the face. The stranger casually removed the shades, tucked them into the inner coat pocket of his leather jacket, and stared down at the smaller man. His lips turned up at the corners in what may have been interpreted as a smile. Perhaps in the daylight it would have appeared to be friendly, even amused, but now, half hidden by shadows, it looked only predatory and more than a little threatening. Without the shades that hid them, his dark eyes glinting almost malevolently in the dim light.
Without a word, the stranger continued to stare at him, his dubious smile widening just a touch. Though his eyes remained cool, almost impassive, the weight of his gaze as it traveled over the length of D’s body from head to toe was anything but. The man’s gaze upon him made him feel naked and vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with sexual desire and everything to do with intimidation.
The stranger stepped fully out of the shadows and advanced upon D menacingly, walking him backwards until his back was pressed up against the brick wall. D gasped as he found himself trapped between the unyielding brick wall and the hard, muscular body of the man who hovered so close to him.
“So, you’re Count D,” He murmured softly. His voice was low, husky, and his breath, fragrant with the scent of coffee and brandy and a hint of peppermint, puffed warm and moist against D’s face. “So we finally meet.”
“No, sir,” D replied. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I am not the Count. Rather I am his grandson.”
The man pulled away in surprise. “Not the Count, you say?”
“Yes,” D murmured, “that is correct.”
The man reached out to grasp D’s chin. D tried to pull away, but the man’s grip was hard, unyielding. He had no choice but to allow the contact. In silence the stranger turned his head this way and that, peering at his face from various angels, then, finally, he leaned closer and peered into D’s multi-colored eyes.
“Amazing,” he breathed. “The resemblance is absolutely amazing. You share the same face, same black hair, the same pale, ivory skin… You look just like the Count did when he was younger.” He offered a small secretive smile that made D’s skin crawl. “But the eyes…your eyes are different from those of your grandfather’s. One gold, the other purple, truly a most unique shade combination one does not see in human eyes. But for all that, they are so very beautiful.”
“Who are you?” D ventured to ask, “And how do you know my grandfather?”
The man released D and pulled back a little bit farther with a short bark of laughter. “Of course, I must apologize. How very rude it is of me to not make a formal introduction. Where on earth are my manners?”
He gave a slow, formal bow, then straightened and grinned wolfishly down at D. “My name is Kuan Yin Zhang. And I must admit that I never had the pleasure of meeting your grandfather personally. But I have seen photographs of both him and your father, and again, I must say that the resemblance you hold with them is remarkable. One could say that it is almost… uncanny.”
“Needless to say,” Kuan Yin continued in a more brisk and professional tone, “You are a descendant of Count D’s bloodline, are you not?”
D nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”
Kuan Yin flashed another smile, all white teeth and sharp edges, but no less disconcerting.
“Good, good. And since I have been unable to locate either your grandfather or your father, I’m afraid that I have no other choice than to take up my employer’s business matters with you.”
“Business matters?” D asked. “What do you mean?”
“You and your family are in possession of several items of great importance that belong to my Lord,” Kuan Yin murmured, his voice smooth, calm, and very professional. It was the tone one was accustomed to hearing from a lawyer while in the middle of a court room battle, but not while being accosted in at the mouth of a dark and smelly alley.
Kuan Yin spread his hands in a beseeching gesture and offered yet another of his unnerving smiles. “Naturally, he is anxious to find these items and would like to have them back in his possession as soon as possible…the sooner the better.
‘Items,’ D thought, ‘what items could he possibly be speaking of?’ He racked his memory but was unable to recall any items this strange man might be referring to. Perhaps if he were given a description of what these items looked like…
“I’m sorry,” D finally replied, “but I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Kuan Yin’s smile slipped a notch, but he was able to hold onto it, though it took some obvious effort on his part. His arm snaked out and planted itself against the wall next to D’s head, an action that screamed intimidation. “Come now, don’t be difficult.” His eyes narrowed slightly and a harsh edge began to creep into his voice. “I know you know exactly what items I am speaking of.”
“I’m afraid I do not,” D replied, his voice cool and firm. “And I will not be able to help you unless you can be a little more specific about these items that you seek. If you wish, you can contact me at my pet shop in Chinatown. Sometime tomorrow would work or the perhaps the next day. Now, if you will excuse me, it is getting late and I need to be going.”
D inclined his head graciously, “Good night to you, sir.”
With that he pivoted on his heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Perhaps, if they were not out of service, he could use one of the public telephones he had spotted on his way to Leon’s apartment to call a taxi. Failing that, he would just have to take the long way home.
Unfortunately, before he had gotten far, he felt Kuan Yin’s hand wrap around one of his wrists in a biting grip.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Kuan Yin snarled.
“Unhand me, you-” D voice was icy as he turned his head intent on unleashing a scathing remark, but only a cry of pain came out when his arm was cruelly yanked up between his shoulder blades in a twisting grip. The next thing he knew, he was swiveled around and slammed up against the brick wall. His forehead bounced off the wall with enough force to make him see stars.
“Tell me where you’ve hidden the sacred ring and blade,” Kuan Yin growled, pressing D into the wall while holding him by the nape of his neck and by his right wrist. “Or so help me God - I swear that I will tear your fucking arm off.”
Kuan Yin yanked D’s arm up higher as if to emphasize the point. D gasped harshly as pain stabbed through his arm.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” D hissed.
“Liar,” Another savage pull at his arm, much harder this time.
Gray waves of pain rolled over D, sickeningly huge. So intense he could do nothing but writhe helplessly.
Kuan Yin released his neck and D felt him bend and twist slightly behind him.
Finally, he straightened, a leering smirk twisting his lips. In his hand he held a switchblade, which must have been concealed somewhere in his clothing. He held it close to D’s face. With a push of a discretely designed button, the blade flashed out, blue-silver in the light and looking every inch as deadly as D knew it could be. His eyes widened and his breath hitched in his chest.
Leaning close enough so that he was almost within kissing distance, Kuan Yin grinned down at D.
“Nice, isn’t it?” He murmured, with a touch of real pride in his voice. “A true beauty, here, don’t you know. Cost me a pretty penny, but it is so worth it.”
With deliberate slowness, he drew the edge of the blade down along the length of D’s face until it was nestled just below his chin. D closed his eyes and fought the urge to pull away, not knowing if such a reaction would be taken as a show of defiance. He certainly didn’t want to provoke his assailant into doing anything drastic. The man seemed unstable enough as it was.
The blade was pressed into D’s throat, not cutting, but with enough pressure to let him know that the man meant business.
Kuan Yin chuckled low in his throat, obviously loving the dominance he held of his victim. “It’s an Italian Stiletto, by the way, the largest one in the line with a thirty-nine and one-half inch blade. Looks more like a sword than a knife, doesn’t it? Made from modern metal and the highest quality materials for durability, it is a quality blade all around. It’s a work of fucking art.”
“Now, my stubborn friend,” Kuan Yin continued his voice low and fierce. “You and I are going to have a bit of a chat.” Once more the blade was pressed against D’s neck, only this time it bit into the pale skin hard enough to draw blood. “And you are going to answer all of my questions. Is that perfectly clear?”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Disclaimer: I don't own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairings: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: R
Warning: Shonen Ai/Yaoi. Language, Violence
Title: Man-Eater
Notes: Sequel to 'Denial' and Story Two in the Arc, which takes place before Volume 9's fourth chapter, Dynasty
The hallway just outside of Leon’s apartment door was as deserted as it had been upon his arrival earlier in the afternoon. D glanced down one length of the hall, then the other to make sure there was no one nearby, straining his ears for any voices or footfalls. Finally he took a few tentative steps towards the entrance of the stairwell, his heart and mind racing.
He half expected Leon to come bursting out of his apartment, voice raised and his signature temper flaring, but he heard not the slightest sound from behind the detective’s door. Part of him wished that Leon would come after him, demanding an explanation, ranting and raging in typical Leon fashion and he was a bit disappointed when that didn’t happen. But the more rational part of his mind felt only the greatest relief that he was able to get away from such an awkward situation as easily as he had.
“Leon…” The word passed his lips barely more than a whisper, but there was no denying the sadness in D’s voice.
‘It’s better this way,’ he thought desperately, ‘Safer… for both of us…’
For a moment his strength failed him and D’s body sagged as his legs momentarily gave way. He flung out one hand in order to catch himself from falling and leaned up against the wall, head bowed, his breathing harsh, dark hair falling forward to curtain the pale triangle of his face. His free hand flew to his mouth, the fingers tracing the soft contours of his lips.
A small sound of longing escaped D’s throat when he realized that he could still taste Leon’s kisses on his lips. The memory of their heat still danced along his lips, raced along his body, scalding him, wracking him with subtle spasms of desire. Dropping his head into his hands, he struggled to suppress the memories and sensations that assaulted him. But they were too new, too fierce.
“What have I done?” he whispered hoarsely through his fingers. “Oh, what have I done?”
The last of the sun’s light to fade completely from the picture window at the end of the hall. Darkness enveloped him and he cast a quick glance up towards the ceiling, expecting the florescent lights to flicker on now that all light had faded from the hallway, but they remained dark.
Pulling himself away from the wall, he ran one hand through his hair in an effort to smooth it. He smoothed his hair and straightened his robes as best he could. With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, threw up his head, and began walking, his footsteps firm and determined.
Once outside the protection of the apartment building, the wind howled and roared around him, colder now that the sun had set. The force of it whipped his hair into a wild frenzy, stole his breath away, and slapped cold color into his pale cheeks. He shivered and suddenly realized that he had left his jacket in Leon’s apartment.
“I can’t go back for it, not now,” D muttered and began walking.
The wind screamed and whooped around him, sucking the very air from his lungs and plucking insistently at his clothes. The scent and taste of the ocean was being carried on the violent air currents, and it permeated his senses, obscuring all else. He raised one arm, ducked his head beneath its meager cover, and squint his eyes against the force of the wind and continued walking.
A few minutes later he stumbled and only managed to catch himself in time to avoid a nasty fall. He peered down at his feet, trying to see what it was that had caused him to trip. The street lights a few feet ahead of where he stood were dim and flickering and he was currently standing in the dark shadows cast of a rather large and scraggly looking tree, but he could just make out that the sidewalk at his feet and directly ahead was a mass of cracks and fissures. Torn and buckled from earthquakes past, the cement was full potholes and other imperfections that could easily break or sprain the ankles of the unwary. The street itself wasn’t much better nor was the twisted stretch of grass and weeds that marched off towards the apartment’s so-called court yard.
“How in the world did I manage to miss this happy little obstacle course?” D wondered aloud as he stared at the broken remains of the sidewalk, spotted here and there by rather ugly and uninspired splashes of graffiti. ‘Street art’ some people called it, but to him it would always be nothing more than mischievous acts of vandalism by teenagers who couldn’t find a more constructive manner in which to express their budding creativity.
With the benefit of sunlight earlier this afternoon, he had been able to steer through this obstacle without any problems. But now that the sun had set, navigating became a bit trickier. He was forced to wonder again why Leon insisted on living in such a derelict neighborhood. Surely with his salary he could afford somewhere just a little bit nicer, couldn’t he?
“Someone really ought to inform the City that the sidewalks in this neighborhood are in the most horrible condition,” D muttered to himself as he slowly picked his way through the crumbling cement. “It’s no wonder I’ve never seen anyone walking around here. It’s dangerous.”
D uttered a small sound of pique as a small hunk of rubble tumbled under his weight, causing him to pitch forward. A brief flash of pain from his ankle drew another small gasp from him. He felt one of his feet actually slip free from his shoes as he stumbled forward a few steps, hopping and pin-wheeling his arms before he was able to recover his balance.
“My God, this place is a death trap and a lawsuit just waiting to happen!” D exclaimed angrily, crouching down for his shoe, which was now covered in dirt and crumbling bits of debris.
He stood haughtily and slapped the shoe against his leg to knock away the dirt then unceremoniously dumped it upside down to make sure there were no foreign objects trapped in the shoe. A few small pebbles fell out and bounced along the cement. One more shake and a quick peer into the shoe convinced him that there was nothing else hiding within its depths. D slid the shoe back onto his foot and continued walking, this time making sure to watch where he going with special care.
As he continued walking on, D, eyes to the ground, sensed the buildings falling away from him on his left. His nose twitched as he caught the first distasteful reek of garbage. A quick glance to the side confirmed that he was indeed passing the alley where several of the apartment complex’s many dumpsters were kept. A powerful stench of wet rot and decay wafted from the confined space, making D’s stomach lurch. Pulling a face of disgust, he fished one hand into a hidden pocket, dragged out a scented lace handkerchief with his initial embroidered along the hem in a flowing Diane script, and proceeded to press it lightly against his nose. His favorite cologne enveloped him, and he inhaled deeply, but it wasn’t strong enough to completely block out the foul odor.
From somewhere deep in the darkness of the alley D heard a rustling of plastic garbage bags and the muted clinks of their contents rubbing and tumbling within their confines. Casting a cautious glace around him to make sure he was alone he then turned his attention to the alley. For a moment he thought he saw movement a few feet away, but it was so dark that it was impossible to say for sure.
More movement caught his eye, he was sure of it now, the flash of something either glass or metal as it caught the dim light of the moon followed by more rustlings that sounded almost… stealthy. He believed that it, whatever ‘it’ was, was closer now... much closer.
‘Rats,’ D thought absently.
‘Yes, it must be rats,’ he rationalized, ‘This is just the sort of habitat so many of the wild ones seem to enjoy, though dark and smelly alleys riddled with garbage would never be top ten on MY list of places to live.’
D might rationalize that it could be rats making that oh so stealthy noise that continued to creep closer, but none of his senses gave him any indication that there were any rats currently taking up residence amongst the garbage that littered the alley. The air, though rank enough, lacked the familiar undercurrent of rodent droppings that was a telltale sign that rats were present in mass numbers. His ears caught no squeaks or squeals, his eyes saw no red glittering of eyes slinking close to the ground.
With one more searching glance into the darkness, D turned on his heels, intent on getting home.
‘It’s getting late, and Chris and the others –‘
D’s train of thought was derailed as he ran into something warm… and very solid. He recoiled, one hand flying to his chest with a wordless exclamation of.
The solid something turned out to be a surprisingly tall Oriental man who stood blocking his route. The stranger, partially hidden in a pool of shadows, was wearing dark shades, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket with many decorative metal studs that gleamed mutely in the dim light thrown off by one of the distant street lights. He said not a word to D, and only peered over the rim of his expensive looking shades at the horrified Count.
“Oh, I am so sorry, sir,” D murmured. He bowed low at the waist, hair falling forward to hide his face. “Please forgive me. I should have been watching were I was going.”
When the stranger didn’t respond, D straightened up slowly, his eyes traveling up until he was looking the stranger in the face. The stranger casually removed the shades, tucked them into the inner coat pocket of his leather jacket, and stared down at the smaller man. His lips turned up at the corners in what may have been interpreted as a smile. Perhaps in the daylight it would have appeared to be friendly, even amused, but now, half hidden by shadows, it looked only predatory and more than a little threatening. Without the shades that hid them, his dark eyes glinting almost malevolently in the dim light.
Without a word, the stranger continued to stare at him, his dubious smile widening just a touch. Though his eyes remained cool, almost impassive, the weight of his gaze as it traveled over the length of D’s body from head to toe was anything but. The man’s gaze upon him made him feel naked and vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with sexual desire and everything to do with intimidation.
The stranger stepped fully out of the shadows and advanced upon D menacingly, walking him backwards until his back was pressed up against the brick wall. D gasped as he found himself trapped between the unyielding brick wall and the hard, muscular body of the man who hovered so close to him.
“So, you’re Count D,” He murmured softly. His voice was low, husky, and his breath, fragrant with the scent of coffee and brandy and a hint of peppermint, puffed warm and moist against D’s face. “So we finally meet.”
“No, sir,” D replied. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I am not the Count. Rather I am his grandson.”
The man pulled away in surprise. “Not the Count, you say?”
“Yes,” D murmured, “that is correct.”
The man reached out to grasp D’s chin. D tried to pull away, but the man’s grip was hard, unyielding. He had no choice but to allow the contact. In silence the stranger turned his head this way and that, peering at his face from various angels, then, finally, he leaned closer and peered into D’s multi-colored eyes.
“Amazing,” he breathed. “The resemblance is absolutely amazing. You share the same face, same black hair, the same pale, ivory skin… You look just like the Count did when he was younger.” He offered a small secretive smile that made D’s skin crawl. “But the eyes…your eyes are different from those of your grandfather’s. One gold, the other purple, truly a most unique shade combination one does not see in human eyes. But for all that, they are so very beautiful.”
“Who are you?” D ventured to ask, “And how do you know my grandfather?”
The man released D and pulled back a little bit farther with a short bark of laughter. “Of course, I must apologize. How very rude it is of me to not make a formal introduction. Where on earth are my manners?”
He gave a slow, formal bow, then straightened and grinned wolfishly down at D. “My name is Kuan Yin Zhang. And I must admit that I never had the pleasure of meeting your grandfather personally. But I have seen photographs of both him and your father, and again, I must say that the resemblance you hold with them is remarkable. One could say that it is almost… uncanny.”
“Needless to say,” Kuan Yin continued in a more brisk and professional tone, “You are a descendant of Count D’s bloodline, are you not?”
D nodded. “Yes, that is correct.”
Kuan Yin flashed another smile, all white teeth and sharp edges, but no less disconcerting.
“Good, good. And since I have been unable to locate either your grandfather or your father, I’m afraid that I have no other choice than to take up my employer’s business matters with you.”
“Business matters?” D asked. “What do you mean?”
“You and your family are in possession of several items of great importance that belong to my Lord,” Kuan Yin murmured, his voice smooth, calm, and very professional. It was the tone one was accustomed to hearing from a lawyer while in the middle of a court room battle, but not while being accosted in at the mouth of a dark and smelly alley.
Kuan Yin spread his hands in a beseeching gesture and offered yet another of his unnerving smiles. “Naturally, he is anxious to find these items and would like to have them back in his possession as soon as possible…the sooner the better.
‘Items,’ D thought, ‘what items could he possibly be speaking of?’ He racked his memory but was unable to recall any items this strange man might be referring to. Perhaps if he were given a description of what these items looked like…
“I’m sorry,” D finally replied, “but I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Kuan Yin’s smile slipped a notch, but he was able to hold onto it, though it took some obvious effort on his part. His arm snaked out and planted itself against the wall next to D’s head, an action that screamed intimidation. “Come now, don’t be difficult.” His eyes narrowed slightly and a harsh edge began to creep into his voice. “I know you know exactly what items I am speaking of.”
“I’m afraid I do not,” D replied, his voice cool and firm. “And I will not be able to help you unless you can be a little more specific about these items that you seek. If you wish, you can contact me at my pet shop in Chinatown. Sometime tomorrow would work or the perhaps the next day. Now, if you will excuse me, it is getting late and I need to be going.”
D inclined his head graciously, “Good night to you, sir.”
With that he pivoted on his heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Perhaps, if they were not out of service, he could use one of the public telephones he had spotted on his way to Leon’s apartment to call a taxi. Failing that, he would just have to take the long way home.
Unfortunately, before he had gotten far, he felt Kuan Yin’s hand wrap around one of his wrists in a biting grip.
“You’re not going anywhere!” Kuan Yin snarled.
“Unhand me, you-” D voice was icy as he turned his head intent on unleashing a scathing remark, but only a cry of pain came out when his arm was cruelly yanked up between his shoulder blades in a twisting grip. The next thing he knew, he was swiveled around and slammed up against the brick wall. His forehead bounced off the wall with enough force to make him see stars.
“Tell me where you’ve hidden the sacred ring and blade,” Kuan Yin growled, pressing D into the wall while holding him by the nape of his neck and by his right wrist. “Or so help me God - I swear that I will tear your fucking arm off.”
Kuan Yin yanked D’s arm up higher as if to emphasize the point. D gasped harshly as pain stabbed through his arm.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” D hissed.
“Liar,” Another savage pull at his arm, much harder this time.
Gray waves of pain rolled over D, sickeningly huge. So intense he could do nothing but writhe helplessly.
Kuan Yin released his neck and D felt him bend and twist slightly behind him.
Finally, he straightened, a leering smirk twisting his lips. In his hand he held a switchblade, which must have been concealed somewhere in his clothing. He held it close to D’s face. With a push of a discretely designed button, the blade flashed out, blue-silver in the light and looking every inch as deadly as D knew it could be. His eyes widened and his breath hitched in his chest.
Leaning close enough so that he was almost within kissing distance, Kuan Yin grinned down at D.
“Nice, isn’t it?” He murmured, with a touch of real pride in his voice. “A true beauty, here, don’t you know. Cost me a pretty penny, but it is so worth it.”
With deliberate slowness, he drew the edge of the blade down along the length of D’s face until it was nestled just below his chin. D closed his eyes and fought the urge to pull away, not knowing if such a reaction would be taken as a show of defiance. He certainly didn’t want to provoke his assailant into doing anything drastic. The man seemed unstable enough as it was.
The blade was pressed into D’s throat, not cutting, but with enough pressure to let him know that the man meant business.
Kuan Yin chuckled low in his throat, obviously loving the dominance he held of his victim. “It’s an Italian Stiletto, by the way, the largest one in the line with a thirty-nine and one-half inch blade. Looks more like a sword than a knife, doesn’t it? Made from modern metal and the highest quality materials for durability, it is a quality blade all around. It’s a work of fucking art.”
“Now, my stubborn friend,” Kuan Yin continued his voice low and fierce. “You and I are going to have a bit of a chat.” Once more the blade was pressed against D’s neck, only this time it bit into the pale skin hard enough to draw blood. “And you are going to answer all of my questions. Is that perfectly clear?”
TO BE CONTINUED…
