(fic) The Hunted - Chapter 5/? - PSoH
Dec. 2nd, 2007 01:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yellowhordeDisclaimer: I don’t own Petshop of Horrors and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.
Pairing: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Alternate Universe
Rating: R
Warning: Violence, Language, Sexual situations, Hermaphrodite!D
Title: The Hunted
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2007
Los Angeles, California
Autumn, 1998
Leon remembered the alarm clock going off, in fact, it had gone off several times, but before his sleep-fogged mind actually registered the need to get up and get active, his hand would snake out from under the warm covers and slap the snooze button silent. Now, an impatient knocking on his bedroom door reminded him that his addiction to hitting the snooze button was getting out of hand.
“Leon!” His younger brother’s voice was muffled by the door, but there was no disguising his irritation. “Are you up yet? I’m going to be late for school!”
What, no ‘Big Bro’? Leon thought, Man, he must really be bent out of shape.
Groaning, he threw the covers, rolled over and planted his feet onto the floor. “Shouldn’t you have already left the house to catch the bus?”
“You said you would give me a ride this morning because of Nibbles,” Chris turned the knob and flung open the door. “You promised. It’s Show-and-Tell Day today!”
“Crap, I forgot.” Leon scrubbed his face and frowned at the sandpaper quality of his morning stubble. Nibbles was Chris’ pet rat and now that he was awake, he remembered that he had actually promised to give him a ride to school because their dad was out of town doing a seminar upstate. “Give me a couple of minutes, will you? I’ve gotta piss like a race horse.”
“You’re so gross.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Leon waved his hand dismissively as his bedroom door was closed none too gently.
Yawning and stretching, he blinked owlishly around the bedroom he currently occupied. It felt strange waking up in his old room, in his old bed. For one, the damned thing was twin sized and his feet dangled over the bottom. But the room had been almost literally kept the exact same way it had been before his mom had died.
A medley of Teenage Mutant Ninja – the Movie posters, The Simpsons paraphernalia, dotted the walls and sports equipment running the gamut from hockey to baseball took up more shelf space than the actual books. All the furniture and carpeting was the same, in fact, the only things missing were his dirty clothes thrown everywhere, a cupboard’s worth of dishes piled on every level surface, and his stash of girly magazines he had always kept tucked under his mattress.
But, to give himself credit, he was already working on restoring the whole pigsty look he had perfected back in his teens. Because nothing said ‘home’ quite as much as that corn-chip dirty sock smell and some really colorful science experiments running amok on the surfaces of his mother’s every-day china.
Smacking his lips sleepily, he stood and made his out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. He hadn’t had to sleep in his old room. In fact, his dad had offered to let him sleep in his room on a real, adult sized bed such as he was accustomed to in his shoebox sized apartment.
It had been a nice offer, but it was one that he had politely declined. The very idea of sleeping in his parents’ bedroom, in their bed, was enough to gross him out. He wasn’t a five year old anymore, he knew what happened in that bed and frankly, he didn’t need that sort of mental image.
After he finished his morning constitutionals, Leon wandered to the sunny kitchen and made a bee line for the refrigerator. Milk, eggs, and butter were taken out of the fridge and bread popped into the toaster. Now, all he needed was a slug of coffee and he’d be almost human.
“I’m going to be late!” Chris entered the kitchen and sniffed suspiciously at the air. “What are you doing?” he asked as he carefully placed Nibbles’ portable cage on the table. The rat wiggled her whiskers and stood on her back legs, obviously curious.
“Cooking, duh, what does it look like I’m doing?” Leon growled over the sound of the exhaust fan as he turned, spatula in hand, “And you’re not going to be late-” He stopped when he saw the cage on the table and reeled back in something very much like horror. “No, no, no, no! Get that rat off the table!”
He hadn’t yet gotten accustomed to Chris’ new pet and still held several strong beliefs that Chris didn’t share, namely that rats were vermin that needed to be exterminated, not to be coddled and made into household pets. His younger brother was convinced he’d get to know Nibbles and see the errors of his ways. Leon thought that it would be a cold day in hell before he let a rat perch on his shoulder, as he had seen Chris do. And he had said so, frequently and at the top of his lungs whenever he came to visit and Chris tried to urge him to hold the damned thing.
“When’s Dad coming home?” Chris complained as he reluctantly moved the portable cage onto the chair next to him. “He’s been gone forever.”
“Two days does not make forever,” Leon lectured smugly. “And he’ll be back in no time, so chill out.”
“But when will he be back?” Chris demanded.
“In three days,” Leon answered with a sigh. “His plane is scheduled to land a little after noon.”
“I just wish he didn’t have to go to out of town seminars all the time,” Chris huffed as Leon set a clean plate, silverware and a cup before him.
“Yeah, well, too bad. And it’s only once or twice a month, hardly all the time.” Leon turned his attention back to the eggs on the stove, which had started to smoke ominously. He stirred frantically in an attempt to salvage as much as possible but had to admit that it was almost certainly a lost cause. “Besides, the department pays him to go to those seminars, you know. And it’s a good living, believe me. I’ve seen his paycheck stubs.”
He turned, skillet in hand, and dished out a hearty helping of burned eggs onto first his plate, then Chris’. “There aren’t very many werewolf experts out there, and Dad is the best in the business. Besides, it’s an important job. There aren’t nearly enough law enforcement agencies with personnel that have been properly trained in tracking and hunting werewolves.”
And, he added mentally, I’d rather see the old man making decent money teaching cops about werewolves than having him going out in the field and hunting them on his own with his bad heart and bum leg.
The bum leg had been a memento from a deranged lycanthrope his father had taken down when Leon was in junior high. The damned thing had been hopped up on drugs, a bad combination all around, as far a Leon was concerned, and it had managed to do some serious damage to his old man’s right thigh before he blew its brains out. The bad heart, well, that ran in the family on his paternal grandmother’s side.
Chris stared at the eggs on his plate, then up at Leon. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, poking the singed mess with the prongs of his fork as if he expected it to leap off the plate and attack.
”It’s not so bad, just add a little ketchup and you’re good to go.” Leon muttered, sliding into his seat and shoveling a forkful into his mouth with more enthusiasm than he felt. He pursed his lips, his jaw quitting in mid-chew. Forcing himself to swallow, he pushed back from the table, took the plate and dumped its contents into the trash bin.
“Come on, grab the rat. We’ll get some McDonalds on the way there.”
*****
“So, how goes babysitting duty?” Jill asked as she rested one hip on the edge of Leon’s overly cluttered desk.
“Oh, you know, just the usual.” Leon thumped his rolled up paper on the desk and sat down in his chair. “I almost poisoned him by actually taking the time to make him breakfast.” At Jill’s look of horror, he quickly added, “Don’t worry I got him some McDonalds to make up for the fact.”
He removed the rubber band from around his paper and shot it toward the wastepaper basket in the corner of his closet-sized office. It missed, but he made no effort to leave his chair and pick it up. “And then I chauffeured him and his rat to school so he could show the damned thing off to his classmates.”
“Rats are kind of cute,” she said with a smile, just to get Leon’s goat.
He shuddered theatrically, “They’re gross and disease-ridden and they’ve got beady eyes. And don’t get me started on their tails! UGH!”
“What about them?”
“They’re like… worms wearing nylon stockings. I don’t know how Chris convinced Dad that letting him get rats was better than getting a dog.”
“Probably because rats are neat, quiet, and relatively easy to take care of,” Jill pointed out, helpfully. “In other words, everything you’re not.”
“Yeah, real funny there, Jill,” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, still unable to believe that anyone would prefer a rodent over Man’s best friend.
“Thank you, it’s a talent, you know.” Jill grinned. With that, she walked over to the wastepaper basket, picked up the rubber band, and tossed it into the container. It wasn’t in her job description to pick up after a messy partner, but if she didn’t the place would rapidly become a pigsty, just like Leon’s apartment, and that would be unacceptable.
“Whatever,” Leon turned his attention to the rolled newspaper on his desk. He spread it out flat on his desk, and sucked in a breath as he saw the headline practically screaming up off the page.
“Well, shit,” he muttered darkly. That didn’t exactly bode well read the first page headline which announced, Werewolf Escapes from Institution. Hunching over, bent elbows resting on the desk, he scanned over the article, his lips moving almost imperceptibly as he mumbled the occasional curse word. As he read he absently gnawed at the ball of his thumb.
The article offered two pictures. One was an old, grainy black and white of the California State Hospital for Werewolves in Los Angeles and the other was a graduation photo of a young man with dark brown, wavy hair that brushed his shoulders and brown, almost black eyes, a handsome young man by all accounts, if you liked them tall and dark.
“What is it, Leon?” Jill peered over his desk and by using her extraordinary gifts of reading upside down (an invaluable tool for gleaning information, not just picking up on juicy gossip-worthy bits) was able to follow along with Leon.
“Shit, this can’t be good,” Leon muttered and dragged his hand through his hair. “It says that this guy, Joshua Fletcher, escaped late last night but had been able to evade all recapture attempts.”
“Fletcher… Fletcher,” He mumbled under his breath. The name was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn’t get a mental hold on it. Beseechingly, he glanced up at his partner for help. She had a fantastic memory for names and faces, while he was lucky to remember the name of his date the next morning. Not that he’d been having many of those of late. “I know that name from somewhere. It’s on the tip of my fucking tongue.”
“He’s Margaret Fletcher’s son,” Jill prompted, tapping her manicured nails on the photograph. “You know, she’s the hot shot lawyer who does pro bono work for ‘the werewolf cause’.” And here, Jill drew imaginary bunny ears in the air for emphasis. “She’s the chairman for the National Association for the Protection of Part-Human Creatures. And she single handedly started ASFAL.
Leon stared at her blankly.
“You know, the Association for the Support of Families Affected by Lycanthropy?”
“Yeah, I remember her now!” Leon nodded his head and snapped his fingers enthusiastically. “Man, she’s the whole package, if you know what I mean - brains, beauty, and a killer body. It’s a pity she wastes all her time defending werewolves.”
Jill frowned at him, then shrugged her shoulders and started going through a stack of letters sitting in the IN box. They had had this argument before, whether werewolves were monsters or humans. They had never quite come to a consensus and in the end they decided that it would be better to agree to disagree.
Leon didn’t have anything against werewolves, per se, but he did know from personal experience that they could be dangerous if left to their own devices. And while he didn’t necessarily agree with locking them up in an institution for the rest of their lives just because they turned furry once a month, he still felt it was important for the public’s safety that they be contained… especially during the full moon. And the only way to do that was to lock them up. It was a conundrum.
For hundreds of years it had been perfectly acceptable to shoot werewolves first and ask questions later. Hunters, like his father, were called to the scene where a werewolf was sighted, hunted it down and blew its brains out. End of story. He couldn’t say is was better in those ‘good old days’ but it sure as hell made a hunter’s job a hell of a lot easier.
Then, in the late 1920’s, institutions were developed where werewolves would be held captive… was their own good, of course. Werewolf attacks were relatively rare, but when one occurred, the story triggered some sort of media frenzy. Kind of like shark attacks. Even human beings who had never even seen the ocean were afraid of sharks because of all the bad press they received. The same could be said of werewolves, but that didn’t mean that their bark was worse than their bite, because their bite could be pretty damned lethal.
In today’s technological world, the news of a werewolf attack traveled around the country practically at the speed of sound. The victim’s name was dragged through the papers, the nightly news, even the fucking internet. There was no chance of privacy and those that did manage to survive – and there weren’t very many that did - were secreted away to one of the werewolf institutions, never to be heard from or seen again.
Personally, he admired Margaret Fletcher’s determination and compassion. She was, after a biological mother of a werewolf and therefore had an insider’s perspective on what sort of discrimination, prejudice and out and out hatred those who suffered from Lycanthrope Disorder, or were the carriers of the disease, were subjected to on a daily basis. Still, he, like a lot of other police officers, had had his share of problematic run-ins with NAPPHC, or "nap-hick" as it was pronounced.
Whether they were human beings with the rights and privileges of United States citizens, or blood thirsty monsters, Lycanthropes were freaking strong even when not in full werewolf mode. That made dealing with them somewhat difficult, especially since it was still considered illegal to shoot them without justifiable cause unless they were in furry mode. Self-defense, whether preformed by private citizens or law enforcement officers, was a fundamental part of the law, and therefore was considered a complete defense.
The typical US-based werewolf hunters and police officers, once forced into a confrontational situation with a Lycanthrope in full werewolf form, can’t retreat, can’t convince, can't just tackle and disarm: deadly force was often the "only reasonable alternative" in almost any case, and had been declared legally acceptable by the Supreme Court of California.
Most law enforcement officers didn’t want to risk getting too close to a werewolf because it had not yet been scientifically proven that the disease could not be transferred while a Lycanthrope was in human form. And, quite frankly, no one was really willing to take such a serious risk. That was one of the reasons hunters like his dad, John Orcot, were still on the police payroll. The job was risky as hell, but it was also very, very lucrative.
Since hunting werewolves was a profession with an understandably high mortality rate, it was also his father’s job to travel across the country in an attempt to recruit new candidates – as he was doing at the seminar upstate he was currently attending. His father no longer actively hunted, but he would still go out for the police force and recruit those brave, foolish individuals who were willing to put their lives on the line to protect the general public.
The telephone rang and Leon scooped it up and cradled it between his shoulder and his ear, “Orcot, here.”
“Hey, Birthday Boy, how’re you doing?” John Orcot’s voice boomed warm and easy over the phone line, “Did you burn down my house yet in your attempts at cooking breakfast?”
“No, Dad, I haven’t burned down the house. Give me a little credit.” Leon grinned and couldn’t help but add, “I only did a little smoke damage, that’s all.”
Jill glanced over at him over the dwindling pile of envelopes, her perfectly groomed eyebrows rising in astonishment. He covered the receiver and pitched his voice low, “Chill out, I’m joking and you know it.”
She offered him an understanding nod and returned to sorting the backlog of mail.
His dad, meanwhile, laughed uproariously. “Son, you’ve got to get yourself a woman one of these days. Preferably, before I’m pushing up daisies. Your mother - God bless her soul - would have wanted you to settle down, have 2.5 kids, a white house with a picket fence and a dog. You know, the whole nine yards. She used to talk about finding you the perfect partner, but I told her you’d manage fine on your own.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I was confident, at least not anymore. You’re twenty-five years old, my boy, and still no ring on your finger. Don’t you think it’s high time for you to settle down?”
Sighing, Leon folded the paper and slid it into the top drawer of the desk he shared with Jill. “It’s not from lack of trying or anything, Dad.” He grumbled, not in the mood to deal with any of his father’s matchmaking attempts. The last girl he had foisted on him had been alright as far as looks went, but had the personality of a wet washcloth. “Good wife material just isn’t all that easy to find, you know.”
“Bullshit,” Came his father’s immediate reply. “You’re just being picky.”
“You’d think that would be a good thing in this case, wouldn’t you?”
“Sometimes it can be, but if I leave things to you, I’ll never be a grandpa.”
“Look, Dad, I’ve got to let you go. There’s been an escape over at the California State Hospital for Werewolves in Los Angeles.”
Instantly, all hilarity and good-natured teasing vanished from his father’s voice. “Then I won’t be detaining you any further. I will say that it would be better for everyone involved, including the werewolf, if he were recaptured before the full moon.”
“Yeah, I know.” Leon scooted his chair back from the desk and stood, phone still wedged between ear and shoulder. “That’s why I’m going to go and have a little talk with our local expert on all things wild and weird. If he can’t offer any insight into this case, then no one can.”
“I hope this gets resolved without bloodshed, son, I really do.”
“I know you do. I’ll see you later when you get back, okay?”
“I’ll take you out and see if I can get you liquored up and laid,” John joked. “After all, it isn’t every year that my oldest son turns twenty-five. Maybe you’ll even find your perfect Ms. Right.” Laughing, he offered a cheerful ‘goodbye’ and disconnected.
Leon hung up and reached into his shirt pocket and fished out his pack of cigarettes. He shook it out, only to discover it was empty. Shit!
“Hey, Leon, this one’s addressed to you personally,” Jill said, handing over an ominously professional looking envelope, the kind with an address window, just like a bill. Only why would any of his bills be coming here to the station? He accepted it warily and glanced at the return address.
“Oh, hell no,” he moaned. “It’s from some big law firm? I thought I took care of those speeding tickets.”
“Maybe it’s a paternity suit,” Jill said.
“Jesus Christ, Jill,” Leon exclaimed, “Don’t say shit like that! Besides,” he mumbled under his breath, “I haven’t gotten any sex in-“ He cut himself off and added, rather lamely, “I always use protection.”
“Sure, you do, Leon,” Jill smirked. “That’s what they all say.”
Irritated, he ripped open the letter, letting the envelope fall to the floor much to Jill’s annoyance. He scanned the letter’s contents rapidly. “It says here that I’m supposed to meet some guy by the name of Li Hua at,” Leon’s eyes widened in shock, “the Four Seasons hotel? Holy shit, talk about posh! It costs almost eight hundred dollars a night to rent one of those rooms!”
Jill gave a low whistle. “I wonder why he wants to talk to you?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders in a deceptively nonchalant manner. “It beats the hell out of me. But he wants me to be there at ‘7’o’clock sharp.’”
“Maybe he’s a secret admirer,” Jill teased.
“As if,” Leon snorted and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. It wasn’t anywhere near cold enough to need one, even a light wind breaker like this one, but the forecast called for the possibility of rain and he didn’t want to be caught up in it. Besides, he hated carrying umbrellas so it was the jacket or nothing. “Look, I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Are you going to Count D’s pet shop?”
Leon stopped halfway to the door. “What makes you ask that?”
“Just a feeling, really,” she replied easily. “It’s just that you told your father you were going to be talking to ‘our local expert on all things wild and weird’ and that means Count D.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And I guess you’re asking because you want to come?”
“But of course,” Jill exclaimed, grabbing her own jacket from its designated hook on the wall. “The Count always has the most scrumptious desserts. They’re heaven, really.” She stepped up to Leon and patted him on his shoulder. “Besides, you have some pretty lousy people skills.”
“I do not!” Leon huffed.
“Yeah, you do,” Jill insisted. “Your social graces are pretty much nonexistent and whenever you’re around Count D, you’re always rude as hell to him. That’s not exactly the best way to get information out of a source. Therefore, I’m coming with you and that’s all there is to that.”
“It’s just that there’s something wrong with that guy and I don’t mean just the fact that he wears dresses.” Leon said in an attempt to rationalize the horrible way in which he treated Count D.
“Like you’re the poster boy for normalcy,” Jill scoffed.
“Damn right I am,” he retorted, smacking one fist against his chest. “I’m an All American, blond haired, blue eyed Man’s man in his prime. I’m as normal as they get, babe, believe me.”
“Yeah, if normal means being a crude, rude asshole that’s addicted to surfing the Net for free porn instead of going out on dates and trying to act like a civilized human being. Then, yes, you’re like every other man.” She slipped on her sunglasses and peered at him, taking in various details from head to toe. “And speaking of dates, when was the last time you got some? And, no,” she added before Leon could open his mouth to reply, “Ma Thumb and her four daughters don’t count.”
“Shit, don’t you start in on me too,” he groused and headed out the door. “You’re starting to sound like my dad.”
“Why, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Less than thirty minutes later Jill and Leon stood in front of the entrance to Count D’s shop. Dropping a wink, Jill reached for the ornate brass knocker. “You just stand there and behave yourself, Leon. This is a school day,” She brought the knocker down against the wood of the door three times, and then stepped back and waited. “Keep your mouth shut and listen.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He mumbled sarcastically, but Jill ignored him.
It wasn’t very long before the door was opened and Count D appeared. A genuine smile graced his lips as he saw Jill. “Why, Detective Freshney!” he exclaimed, “It’s been so long since you’ve visited me at my shop. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Count. But I’m afraid we’re here on official business, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, dear, where are my manners? Please, won’t you come inside?” He stepped back to open the door a little wider. “I was just about to have my afternoon tea. Would you care to join me?”
“We’d be delighted,” Jill replied and took Leon’s hand and practically dragged him forward.
“If you’ll follow me to the parlor,” D gestured toward the couch and chairs but Leon was already making his way to his usual sitting place as he said, “Please, won’t you be seated? I’ll be back in jus a moment.”
“Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly,” Leon muttered under his breath. Jill swatted him on the shoulder, the disdainful expression on her face clearly saying, ‘Grow up, Leon!’
D returned in a few moments, rolling a tea cart lain out with white linen, and a porcelain tea set and what appeared to be either a cheesecake or a pie. Knowing D, it could be either. He laid out the tea set, poured tea gracefully and served each of his guests a piece of tiramisu before setting a piece on his own plate. Normally, his movements were smooth and almost inhumanly graceful, but today Leon noticed that there was an odd stiffness about his manner that he had never noticed before.
He also couldn’t help notice that D, who always wore the most outlandish outfits known to Man, at least as far as he was concerned, was wearing an exceptionally elaborate robe in shades of bright red. The bell-like sleeves, long and diaphanous, trailed almost to the ground, and the fabric, obviously pure silk, was hand embroidered with a gold dragon under the neckline and a phoenix and peony design near the hem. Leon had lived in Los Angeles and had worked around Chinatown long enough to have picked up that the dragon and phoenix motif often symbolized the balance of Yin & Yang, male and female.
“What’s with the get up?” Leon blurted, gesturing toward the outfit with his cup. “I’m used to seeing you in dresses, but, Jesus, that one takes the cake.”
Leon winced when Jill kicked him under the table. Fortunately, the act was hidden behind the safety of the tea cart’s linen and was not remarked upon by D, but whether it was because he was being polite or honestly hadn’t noticed, he couldn’t say. All he did know at the moment was that one of Jill’s damn three inch heels had made a clear shot to his shin bone and it now hurt like hell.
Jill glared at Leon and quickly turned a gracious smile to their host. “What I’m sure Leon meant to say,” Here she shot a look of pure daggers in her partner’s direction, “is that the outfit you’re wearing today is exceptionally beautiful. Is it for some special occasion?”
D smiled, but it seemed strained to Leon, who was watching him carefully, trying to puzzle out what was going on with the other man. He seemed almost… nervous.
“Yes, it is for a special occasion,” he admitted quietly, setting his cup down beside his still untouched piece of tiramisu. That alone told Leon that something was definitely up. The Count wasn’t one to skimp on his sweets. “I will be meeting with my grandfather tonight… to discuss my future.”
“Your granddad, you say?” Leon leaned forward, interested. “I’ve heard about this mysterious man for almost two years but I’ve never laid eyes on him. So, what sort of plans does the old man have for you? Planning on opening another shop full of man-eating rabbits?”
“Leon!” Jill snapped, horrified.
Holding up a hand, D replied, “No, there will not be a second shop, Detective Orcot. The matter that we shall discuss is a private one. Family matters. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”
“And how is your brother, Detective Orcot?” D asked, glancing over at the other man and making an obvious effort to change the topic of conversation.
“Chris is fine, just fine.” Leon mumbled, cutting a quick glance at the still fuming Jill, then added grudgingly. “Thanks for asking.”
“Isn’t this the weekend that he goes camping with the Thompson family?”
D sipped his tea, oblivious to the incredulous look Jill was giving Leon, and calmly waited for Leon’s reply.
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Leon began, shifting in his seat. “Mrs. Thompson is supposed to pick up Chris and her son, Jack, after school. Then, after dropping the rat off at Dad’s place,” he couldn’t quite suppress a small shudder at the mention of the rodent, “they were going to go up to the Angeles National Forest for a few days.”
He stabbed his fork into his piece of tiramisu and used the edge of the fork to cut off a large section, which he then stuffed into his mouth.
“Hey, this is pretty good, Count.”
Count D inclined his head graciously, and looked mildly surprised that he hadn’t bitched about the dessert being too damned sweet for once.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “I’m pleased that you like it.”
“The thing is,” Leon continued around a mouthful of cake, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea anymore. And I’ve been thinking about calling Mrs. Thompson and asking her to cancel the trip.”
“But why would you want to do such a thing?” D asked, “Chris has been looking forward to this camping trip for weeks.”
Leon swallowed and then forked off another section of pie. “That was before I knew there was a werewolf on the loose.”
“Oh, dear me,” D reached out and laid a hand on Leon’s arm. The contact sent tiny shivers up his spine and to other, more intimate areas. He pulled his arm out from under D’s hand and leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
“So, that’s why we’re here.” He said, then pushed back his plate and got down to business. “Now, what can you tell me about this werewolf, D?”
Several seconds of silence passed and D simply looked at him. It suddenly became so quiet in the pet shop that he could hear the distant ticking of an unseen clock. Even the animals had stopped their distant chattering.
“I assure you, Detective Orcot, as a pet shop keeper and as someone personally fascinated with mythical and supernatural creatures, I know a great deal about Lycanthropes in general,” he gently stressed the last two words as he pulled his hand back. He folded his hands and placed them in his lap. “But as to this particular Lycanthrope, I have no knowledge that may be of any use. I am sorry.”
Count D rose slowly to his feet, a clear indication that the interrogation, for that’s what it was despite the social niceties, was over.
“Wait, Count D,” Jill rose, stretching her hand out in an attempt to salvage the situation, which had somehow fallen apart at the seams for reasons she wasn’t able to fathom. “The boy’s name is Joshua Fletcher and if he isn’t found and contained before the full moon someone will get hurt. Someone may even die. We need to find him before that can happen. Anything you could possibly tell us would be useful.”
D sighed and sat down somewhat reluctantly, “The son of Margaret Fletcher, the famous lawyer?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I have heard of this young man you speak of. His name has been in the news and papers before. This Joshua Fletcher, he is a young man.” D picked up his teacup but instead of drinking from it, he turned it round and round in his hands slowly as if examining the intricate patterns or checking for flaws. “He was diagnosed with Lycanthrope Disorder at a relatively young age?”
“Yeah, he’d just turned eighteen when he had his first… attack, if that’s the correct word for it. He’s been institutionalize for the last three years so he should be twenty-one by now. ”
“And he was born with the disorder, not infected by another Lycanthrope?”
“Yes, his mother was an asymptomatic carrier of the Lycanthropy Disorder. It didn’t manifest itself until after he turned eighteen.”
D finally sipped his tea, which must have been rather cool by that point for he made a slight moue of displeasure before setting the cup down on the saucer in front of him.
“And his family,” he continued, “Do they still live in California? I would assume that that is the case as Mrs. Fletcher is still making headlines in the local newspapers.”
“She’s working on a pro bono case up in Sacramento, but she and her younger son,” Jill paused and Leon could practically see her mind working to retrieve the name of the younger son. Hell, he hadn’t known there had been a brother, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard it mentioned, he just didn’t have the power of recall that his partner did.
“Ian, that’s his name.” she snapped her fingers triumphantly, pleased that she had recalled the name. “She and Ian still live in California. In fact, they live right here in Los Angeles.”
“Then you should contact them. The sooner they are aware of the situation, the better.” D tapped his pursed lips with one finger. “I would imagine that the Institution would have already contacted them by now to tell them of the escape, but it would be best to contact them again, in case they didn’t get the message. They need to be warned because Joshua will, no doubt, try to return home, to those who love him, understand him.”
“Right,” Jill nodded her head. “I guess that should have been obvious.”
“I must warn you both, Detectives, it will not be as easy to apprehend this young man as you seem to think, even if you do find him before the full moon.”
“What do you mean by that?” Leon demanded.
D stood and began gathering up the dishes and utensils, effectively ignoring Leon’s question. The black curtain of his hair fell forward to hide the triangle of his face. “What will happen to Joshua if he is found before the full moon?” he asked quietly.
“He’ll be taken back to the California State Institute for Werewolves,” Jill replied with quiet honesty, “By force if necessary.”
“And if he transforms?” D asked. His voice was still terribly quiet as if he already suspected the answer and didn’t like it. “What will happen then?”
“Then they’ll call me in,” Leon said gruffly. “And I’ll hunt him down and put a silver bullet in his brain.”
“And you could do this?” D turned his attention toward the other man and the outrage was clear in his face, his voice. “Hunt down a fellow human being and end his life, just like that?”
“He’s not a human being, D,” Leon retorted angrily, almost shouting. “Not anymore. Now, he’s just a monster. If he goes furry in the middle of Los Angeles, then a whole hell of a lot of people could get hurt, or end up dead… or worse.”
He slammed his cup down on the table and tea sloshed over the rim, over his hands and onto the table. The chair legs grated against the tile as he pushed violently away from the table and stood, his body trembling with pent up fury.
“So, yeah, D, to answer your question, I could do it. I have to. It’s my fucking job. And it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
“And you call Lycanthropes monsters.” D’s voice was low, dangerous. “I think you should take a careful look in the mirror, Mr. Detective, to see who the real monster is.”
The two men stood glaring at each other over the table, faces set in angry stone. The spilled tea streamed over the edge of the table to patter against the tile floor.
“I think you should leave, Detective,” D whispered hoarsely, “Now.”
“Oh my, look at the time. I guess we should get back to work.” Jill rose and took Leon’s arm and tugged at him in an effort to get him moving. For a moment he stood as if rooted the spot, but after a few more insistent tugs he seemed to get the idea.
“We’re leaving, Leon.” Jill hissed, “Let’s go.”
Not a word passed between the partners as they made their way to Leon’s car. He unlocked his door, slid behind the wheel, and pulled the door behind him with more force than actually necessary. The adrenaline spike of anger had fizzled away leaving him feeling drained and unhappy. He hadn’t meant to lose his cool back there like that, but something inside had just snapped. Sighing heavily, he rested his elbows against the steering wheel and his head in the palms of his hands.
Jill slid in beside him. “Well, that could have gone better.” She fastened her safety harness and glanced over at Leon, head in hands, looking like someone had killed his best friend. “What the hell happened in there, Leon?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just sort of lost it, you know?” He didn’t turn his head to meet Jill’s gaze, he could tell just from her voice how upset with him she was.
“That’s the understatement of the year.” He heard her sigh and it was no longer an angry sound, but one of concern. Crap, he could deal with her anger, but her concern drove him up the wall. “The past couple of weeks you’ve been irritable and on edge, Leon. I mean, you’ve always been an asshole, but this is something completely different. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. “At least nothing I can put my finger on. I just… don’t feel like myself anymore.” He barked harsh laughter. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t know how else to explain it. I can’t seem to keep a lid on my temper.”
Jill’s eyebrows rose skeptically at this.
“Okay,” he amended, “I’ve always had problems with my temper, you know that, but it’s never been this bad before, I swear,” he sighed then closed his eyes and laid his head against the headrest for a moment before turning his gaze to Jill. His blue eyes seemed clouded, troubled.
“And that’s not the only thing that I’ve noticed that’s been different lately, either. I know it sounds funny, but noises… they seem much louder than they used to be. And lights are brighter somehow. And don’t even get me started on smells. Like your perfume.”
Jill looked puzzled. “I’m not wearing any perfume today, Leon.” She said gently.
“Maybe not today you’re not, but you wore that jacket last week and that day you wore Il Bacio. I remember because I asked you what you were wearing.”
“Yes, it was a gift from my mother.” Jill said slowly, “But how could you still smell it now? I can barely smell it and I’m wearing the jacket.”
“I don’t know how I can,” Leon growled, “All I know is that I’m almost drowning in a world of scents and it’s driving me up the fucking wall. Hell, you know what? I could actually tell D was nervous about something when we arrived at the shop earlier. Just from the scent of him. It’s fucking insane!”
He laid his head on the steering wheel and closed his eyes. “It gives me headaches,” he mumbled wearily, “And aspirin doesn’t do any good.”
“Maybe you should go see a doctor,” Jill suggested. “Get yourself checked out. You may have a tumor or something.”
Leon shuddered at the thought. “No way,” he shook his head slowly because moving quickly sent spikes of pain through his brain. “The last thing I need is another God damned doctor.”
Lord knows he had had to deal with enough of them as a kid. Almost every month it seemed his mother had dragged him to see this doctor or that specialist for one reason or another, almost as if she was expecting to find something. But, aside from his stint in the hospital after the attack, he was fairly healthy. But all the tests, the poking and the probing had installed in him a deeply seeded dread of doctors. Now, he only went when there was something obviously wrong – like when he’d been shot. Otherwise, the over the counter drug aisle of the local grocery store provided all the necessary solutions to his health related problems.
He tried to pass it off as his mother being paranoid after he had had such a terrible near death experience, but sometimes he wondered what it was exactly that she had been looking for and what she had expected to find. Of course he could never find out now. That mystery had gone with his mother to her grave.
He turned and offered what he hoped was a winning smile, but it felt strained along the edges. “Maybe I just need to take you and Dad’s advice and get laid.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Jill agreed, “And it may do you a world of good.”
Leon laughed then winced at the pain it had produced. He inserted his key into the ignition and started the car. For once it came to life with a roar and not a whimper. Damn car was on its last legs. “Next you’ll be suggesting I go out and hire a hooker.”
Now it was Jill’s turn to laugh. “Hell, if your attitude doesn’t improve soon, I’ll go and get one for you.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER CHAPTER 06
Pairing: Leon x D
Category: Supernatural/Alternate Universe
Rating: R
Warning: Violence, Language, Sexual situations, Hermaphrodite!D
Title: The Hunted
Author: yellowhorde
Notes: This was written for NaNoWriMo 2007
Los Angeles, California
Autumn, 1998
Leon remembered the alarm clock going off, in fact, it had gone off several times, but before his sleep-fogged mind actually registered the need to get up and get active, his hand would snake out from under the warm covers and slap the snooze button silent. Now, an impatient knocking on his bedroom door reminded him that his addiction to hitting the snooze button was getting out of hand.
“Leon!” His younger brother’s voice was muffled by the door, but there was no disguising his irritation. “Are you up yet? I’m going to be late for school!”
What, no ‘Big Bro’? Leon thought, Man, he must really be bent out of shape.
Groaning, he threw the covers, rolled over and planted his feet onto the floor. “Shouldn’t you have already left the house to catch the bus?”
“You said you would give me a ride this morning because of Nibbles,” Chris turned the knob and flung open the door. “You promised. It’s Show-and-Tell Day today!”
“Crap, I forgot.” Leon scrubbed his face and frowned at the sandpaper quality of his morning stubble. Nibbles was Chris’ pet rat and now that he was awake, he remembered that he had actually promised to give him a ride to school because their dad was out of town doing a seminar upstate. “Give me a couple of minutes, will you? I’ve gotta piss like a race horse.”
“You’re so gross.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Leon waved his hand dismissively as his bedroom door was closed none too gently.
Yawning and stretching, he blinked owlishly around the bedroom he currently occupied. It felt strange waking up in his old room, in his old bed. For one, the damned thing was twin sized and his feet dangled over the bottom. But the room had been almost literally kept the exact same way it had been before his mom had died.
A medley of Teenage Mutant Ninja – the Movie posters, The Simpsons paraphernalia, dotted the walls and sports equipment running the gamut from hockey to baseball took up more shelf space than the actual books. All the furniture and carpeting was the same, in fact, the only things missing were his dirty clothes thrown everywhere, a cupboard’s worth of dishes piled on every level surface, and his stash of girly magazines he had always kept tucked under his mattress.
But, to give himself credit, he was already working on restoring the whole pigsty look he had perfected back in his teens. Because nothing said ‘home’ quite as much as that corn-chip dirty sock smell and some really colorful science experiments running amok on the surfaces of his mother’s every-day china.
Smacking his lips sleepily, he stood and made his out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. He hadn’t had to sleep in his old room. In fact, his dad had offered to let him sleep in his room on a real, adult sized bed such as he was accustomed to in his shoebox sized apartment.
It had been a nice offer, but it was one that he had politely declined. The very idea of sleeping in his parents’ bedroom, in their bed, was enough to gross him out. He wasn’t a five year old anymore, he knew what happened in that bed and frankly, he didn’t need that sort of mental image.
After he finished his morning constitutionals, Leon wandered to the sunny kitchen and made a bee line for the refrigerator. Milk, eggs, and butter were taken out of the fridge and bread popped into the toaster. Now, all he needed was a slug of coffee and he’d be almost human.
“I’m going to be late!” Chris entered the kitchen and sniffed suspiciously at the air. “What are you doing?” he asked as he carefully placed Nibbles’ portable cage on the table. The rat wiggled her whiskers and stood on her back legs, obviously curious.
“Cooking, duh, what does it look like I’m doing?” Leon growled over the sound of the exhaust fan as he turned, spatula in hand, “And you’re not going to be late-” He stopped when he saw the cage on the table and reeled back in something very much like horror. “No, no, no, no! Get that rat off the table!”
He hadn’t yet gotten accustomed to Chris’ new pet and still held several strong beliefs that Chris didn’t share, namely that rats were vermin that needed to be exterminated, not to be coddled and made into household pets. His younger brother was convinced he’d get to know Nibbles and see the errors of his ways. Leon thought that it would be a cold day in hell before he let a rat perch on his shoulder, as he had seen Chris do. And he had said so, frequently and at the top of his lungs whenever he came to visit and Chris tried to urge him to hold the damned thing.
“When’s Dad coming home?” Chris complained as he reluctantly moved the portable cage onto the chair next to him. “He’s been gone forever.”
“Two days does not make forever,” Leon lectured smugly. “And he’ll be back in no time, so chill out.”
“But when will he be back?” Chris demanded.
“In three days,” Leon answered with a sigh. “His plane is scheduled to land a little after noon.”
“I just wish he didn’t have to go to out of town seminars all the time,” Chris huffed as Leon set a clean plate, silverware and a cup before him.
“Yeah, well, too bad. And it’s only once or twice a month, hardly all the time.” Leon turned his attention back to the eggs on the stove, which had started to smoke ominously. He stirred frantically in an attempt to salvage as much as possible but had to admit that it was almost certainly a lost cause. “Besides, the department pays him to go to those seminars, you know. And it’s a good living, believe me. I’ve seen his paycheck stubs.”
He turned, skillet in hand, and dished out a hearty helping of burned eggs onto first his plate, then Chris’. “There aren’t very many werewolf experts out there, and Dad is the best in the business. Besides, it’s an important job. There aren’t nearly enough law enforcement agencies with personnel that have been properly trained in tracking and hunting werewolves.”
And, he added mentally, I’d rather see the old man making decent money teaching cops about werewolves than having him going out in the field and hunting them on his own with his bad heart and bum leg.
The bum leg had been a memento from a deranged lycanthrope his father had taken down when Leon was in junior high. The damned thing had been hopped up on drugs, a bad combination all around, as far a Leon was concerned, and it had managed to do some serious damage to his old man’s right thigh before he blew its brains out. The bad heart, well, that ran in the family on his paternal grandmother’s side.
Chris stared at the eggs on his plate, then up at Leon. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, poking the singed mess with the prongs of his fork as if he expected it to leap off the plate and attack.
”It’s not so bad, just add a little ketchup and you’re good to go.” Leon muttered, sliding into his seat and shoveling a forkful into his mouth with more enthusiasm than he felt. He pursed his lips, his jaw quitting in mid-chew. Forcing himself to swallow, he pushed back from the table, took the plate and dumped its contents into the trash bin.
“Come on, grab the rat. We’ll get some McDonalds on the way there.”
*****
“So, how goes babysitting duty?” Jill asked as she rested one hip on the edge of Leon’s overly cluttered desk.
“Oh, you know, just the usual.” Leon thumped his rolled up paper on the desk and sat down in his chair. “I almost poisoned him by actually taking the time to make him breakfast.” At Jill’s look of horror, he quickly added, “Don’t worry I got him some McDonalds to make up for the fact.”
He removed the rubber band from around his paper and shot it toward the wastepaper basket in the corner of his closet-sized office. It missed, but he made no effort to leave his chair and pick it up. “And then I chauffeured him and his rat to school so he could show the damned thing off to his classmates.”
“Rats are kind of cute,” she said with a smile, just to get Leon’s goat.
He shuddered theatrically, “They’re gross and disease-ridden and they’ve got beady eyes. And don’t get me started on their tails! UGH!”
“What about them?”
“They’re like… worms wearing nylon stockings. I don’t know how Chris convinced Dad that letting him get rats was better than getting a dog.”
“Probably because rats are neat, quiet, and relatively easy to take care of,” Jill pointed out, helpfully. “In other words, everything you’re not.”
“Yeah, real funny there, Jill,” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, still unable to believe that anyone would prefer a rodent over Man’s best friend.
“Thank you, it’s a talent, you know.” Jill grinned. With that, she walked over to the wastepaper basket, picked up the rubber band, and tossed it into the container. It wasn’t in her job description to pick up after a messy partner, but if she didn’t the place would rapidly become a pigsty, just like Leon’s apartment, and that would be unacceptable.
“Whatever,” Leon turned his attention to the rolled newspaper on his desk. He spread it out flat on his desk, and sucked in a breath as he saw the headline practically screaming up off the page.
“Well, shit,” he muttered darkly. That didn’t exactly bode well read the first page headline which announced, Werewolf Escapes from Institution. Hunching over, bent elbows resting on the desk, he scanned over the article, his lips moving almost imperceptibly as he mumbled the occasional curse word. As he read he absently gnawed at the ball of his thumb.
The article offered two pictures. One was an old, grainy black and white of the California State Hospital for Werewolves in Los Angeles and the other was a graduation photo of a young man with dark brown, wavy hair that brushed his shoulders and brown, almost black eyes, a handsome young man by all accounts, if you liked them tall and dark.
“What is it, Leon?” Jill peered over his desk and by using her extraordinary gifts of reading upside down (an invaluable tool for gleaning information, not just picking up on juicy gossip-worthy bits) was able to follow along with Leon.
“Shit, this can’t be good,” Leon muttered and dragged his hand through his hair. “It says that this guy, Joshua Fletcher, escaped late last night but had been able to evade all recapture attempts.”
“Fletcher… Fletcher,” He mumbled under his breath. The name was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn’t get a mental hold on it. Beseechingly, he glanced up at his partner for help. She had a fantastic memory for names and faces, while he was lucky to remember the name of his date the next morning. Not that he’d been having many of those of late. “I know that name from somewhere. It’s on the tip of my fucking tongue.”
“He’s Margaret Fletcher’s son,” Jill prompted, tapping her manicured nails on the photograph. “You know, she’s the hot shot lawyer who does pro bono work for ‘the werewolf cause’.” And here, Jill drew imaginary bunny ears in the air for emphasis. “She’s the chairman for the National Association for the Protection of Part-Human Creatures. And she single handedly started ASFAL.
Leon stared at her blankly.
“You know, the Association for the Support of Families Affected by Lycanthropy?”
“Yeah, I remember her now!” Leon nodded his head and snapped his fingers enthusiastically. “Man, she’s the whole package, if you know what I mean - brains, beauty, and a killer body. It’s a pity she wastes all her time defending werewolves.”
Jill frowned at him, then shrugged her shoulders and started going through a stack of letters sitting in the IN box. They had had this argument before, whether werewolves were monsters or humans. They had never quite come to a consensus and in the end they decided that it would be better to agree to disagree.
Leon didn’t have anything against werewolves, per se, but he did know from personal experience that they could be dangerous if left to their own devices. And while he didn’t necessarily agree with locking them up in an institution for the rest of their lives just because they turned furry once a month, he still felt it was important for the public’s safety that they be contained… especially during the full moon. And the only way to do that was to lock them up. It was a conundrum.
For hundreds of years it had been perfectly acceptable to shoot werewolves first and ask questions later. Hunters, like his father, were called to the scene where a werewolf was sighted, hunted it down and blew its brains out. End of story. He couldn’t say is was better in those ‘good old days’ but it sure as hell made a hunter’s job a hell of a lot easier.
Then, in the late 1920’s, institutions were developed where werewolves would be held captive… was their own good, of course. Werewolf attacks were relatively rare, but when one occurred, the story triggered some sort of media frenzy. Kind of like shark attacks. Even human beings who had never even seen the ocean were afraid of sharks because of all the bad press they received. The same could be said of werewolves, but that didn’t mean that their bark was worse than their bite, because their bite could be pretty damned lethal.
In today’s technological world, the news of a werewolf attack traveled around the country practically at the speed of sound. The victim’s name was dragged through the papers, the nightly news, even the fucking internet. There was no chance of privacy and those that did manage to survive – and there weren’t very many that did - were secreted away to one of the werewolf institutions, never to be heard from or seen again.
Personally, he admired Margaret Fletcher’s determination and compassion. She was, after a biological mother of a werewolf and therefore had an insider’s perspective on what sort of discrimination, prejudice and out and out hatred those who suffered from Lycanthrope Disorder, or were the carriers of the disease, were subjected to on a daily basis. Still, he, like a lot of other police officers, had had his share of problematic run-ins with NAPPHC, or "nap-hick" as it was pronounced.
Whether they were human beings with the rights and privileges of United States citizens, or blood thirsty monsters, Lycanthropes were freaking strong even when not in full werewolf mode. That made dealing with them somewhat difficult, especially since it was still considered illegal to shoot them without justifiable cause unless they were in furry mode. Self-defense, whether preformed by private citizens or law enforcement officers, was a fundamental part of the law, and therefore was considered a complete defense.
The typical US-based werewolf hunters and police officers, once forced into a confrontational situation with a Lycanthrope in full werewolf form, can’t retreat, can’t convince, can't just tackle and disarm: deadly force was often the "only reasonable alternative" in almost any case, and had been declared legally acceptable by the Supreme Court of California.
Most law enforcement officers didn’t want to risk getting too close to a werewolf because it had not yet been scientifically proven that the disease could not be transferred while a Lycanthrope was in human form. And, quite frankly, no one was really willing to take such a serious risk. That was one of the reasons hunters like his dad, John Orcot, were still on the police payroll. The job was risky as hell, but it was also very, very lucrative.
Since hunting werewolves was a profession with an understandably high mortality rate, it was also his father’s job to travel across the country in an attempt to recruit new candidates – as he was doing at the seminar upstate he was currently attending. His father no longer actively hunted, but he would still go out for the police force and recruit those brave, foolish individuals who were willing to put their lives on the line to protect the general public.
The telephone rang and Leon scooped it up and cradled it between his shoulder and his ear, “Orcot, here.”
“Hey, Birthday Boy, how’re you doing?” John Orcot’s voice boomed warm and easy over the phone line, “Did you burn down my house yet in your attempts at cooking breakfast?”
“No, Dad, I haven’t burned down the house. Give me a little credit.” Leon grinned and couldn’t help but add, “I only did a little smoke damage, that’s all.”
Jill glanced over at him over the dwindling pile of envelopes, her perfectly groomed eyebrows rising in astonishment. He covered the receiver and pitched his voice low, “Chill out, I’m joking and you know it.”
She offered him an understanding nod and returned to sorting the backlog of mail.
His dad, meanwhile, laughed uproariously. “Son, you’ve got to get yourself a woman one of these days. Preferably, before I’m pushing up daisies. Your mother - God bless her soul - would have wanted you to settle down, have 2.5 kids, a white house with a picket fence and a dog. You know, the whole nine yards. She used to talk about finding you the perfect partner, but I told her you’d manage fine on your own.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I was confident, at least not anymore. You’re twenty-five years old, my boy, and still no ring on your finger. Don’t you think it’s high time for you to settle down?”
Sighing, Leon folded the paper and slid it into the top drawer of the desk he shared with Jill. “It’s not from lack of trying or anything, Dad.” He grumbled, not in the mood to deal with any of his father’s matchmaking attempts. The last girl he had foisted on him had been alright as far as looks went, but had the personality of a wet washcloth. “Good wife material just isn’t all that easy to find, you know.”
“Bullshit,” Came his father’s immediate reply. “You’re just being picky.”
“You’d think that would be a good thing in this case, wouldn’t you?”
“Sometimes it can be, but if I leave things to you, I’ll never be a grandpa.”
“Look, Dad, I’ve got to let you go. There’s been an escape over at the California State Hospital for Werewolves in Los Angeles.”
Instantly, all hilarity and good-natured teasing vanished from his father’s voice. “Then I won’t be detaining you any further. I will say that it would be better for everyone involved, including the werewolf, if he were recaptured before the full moon.”
“Yeah, I know.” Leon scooted his chair back from the desk and stood, phone still wedged between ear and shoulder. “That’s why I’m going to go and have a little talk with our local expert on all things wild and weird. If he can’t offer any insight into this case, then no one can.”
“I hope this gets resolved without bloodshed, son, I really do.”
“I know you do. I’ll see you later when you get back, okay?”
“I’ll take you out and see if I can get you liquored up and laid,” John joked. “After all, it isn’t every year that my oldest son turns twenty-five. Maybe you’ll even find your perfect Ms. Right.” Laughing, he offered a cheerful ‘goodbye’ and disconnected.
Leon hung up and reached into his shirt pocket and fished out his pack of cigarettes. He shook it out, only to discover it was empty. Shit!
“Hey, Leon, this one’s addressed to you personally,” Jill said, handing over an ominously professional looking envelope, the kind with an address window, just like a bill. Only why would any of his bills be coming here to the station? He accepted it warily and glanced at the return address.
“Oh, hell no,” he moaned. “It’s from some big law firm? I thought I took care of those speeding tickets.”
“Maybe it’s a paternity suit,” Jill said.
“Jesus Christ, Jill,” Leon exclaimed, “Don’t say shit like that! Besides,” he mumbled under his breath, “I haven’t gotten any sex in-“ He cut himself off and added, rather lamely, “I always use protection.”
“Sure, you do, Leon,” Jill smirked. “That’s what they all say.”
Irritated, he ripped open the letter, letting the envelope fall to the floor much to Jill’s annoyance. He scanned the letter’s contents rapidly. “It says here that I’m supposed to meet some guy by the name of Li Hua at,” Leon’s eyes widened in shock, “the Four Seasons hotel? Holy shit, talk about posh! It costs almost eight hundred dollars a night to rent one of those rooms!”
Jill gave a low whistle. “I wonder why he wants to talk to you?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders in a deceptively nonchalant manner. “It beats the hell out of me. But he wants me to be there at ‘7’o’clock sharp.’”
“Maybe he’s a secret admirer,” Jill teased.
“As if,” Leon snorted and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. It wasn’t anywhere near cold enough to need one, even a light wind breaker like this one, but the forecast called for the possibility of rain and he didn’t want to be caught up in it. Besides, he hated carrying umbrellas so it was the jacket or nothing. “Look, I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Are you going to Count D’s pet shop?”
Leon stopped halfway to the door. “What makes you ask that?”
“Just a feeling, really,” she replied easily. “It’s just that you told your father you were going to be talking to ‘our local expert on all things wild and weird’ and that means Count D.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And I guess you’re asking because you want to come?”
“But of course,” Jill exclaimed, grabbing her own jacket from its designated hook on the wall. “The Count always has the most scrumptious desserts. They’re heaven, really.” She stepped up to Leon and patted him on his shoulder. “Besides, you have some pretty lousy people skills.”
“I do not!” Leon huffed.
“Yeah, you do,” Jill insisted. “Your social graces are pretty much nonexistent and whenever you’re around Count D, you’re always rude as hell to him. That’s not exactly the best way to get information out of a source. Therefore, I’m coming with you and that’s all there is to that.”
“It’s just that there’s something wrong with that guy and I don’t mean just the fact that he wears dresses.” Leon said in an attempt to rationalize the horrible way in which he treated Count D.
“Like you’re the poster boy for normalcy,” Jill scoffed.
“Damn right I am,” he retorted, smacking one fist against his chest. “I’m an All American, blond haired, blue eyed Man’s man in his prime. I’m as normal as they get, babe, believe me.”
“Yeah, if normal means being a crude, rude asshole that’s addicted to surfing the Net for free porn instead of going out on dates and trying to act like a civilized human being. Then, yes, you’re like every other man.” She slipped on her sunglasses and peered at him, taking in various details from head to toe. “And speaking of dates, when was the last time you got some? And, no,” she added before Leon could open his mouth to reply, “Ma Thumb and her four daughters don’t count.”
“Shit, don’t you start in on me too,” he groused and headed out the door. “You’re starting to sound like my dad.”
“Why, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Less than thirty minutes later Jill and Leon stood in front of the entrance to Count D’s shop. Dropping a wink, Jill reached for the ornate brass knocker. “You just stand there and behave yourself, Leon. This is a school day,” She brought the knocker down against the wood of the door three times, and then stepped back and waited. “Keep your mouth shut and listen.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He mumbled sarcastically, but Jill ignored him.
It wasn’t very long before the door was opened and Count D appeared. A genuine smile graced his lips as he saw Jill. “Why, Detective Freshney!” he exclaimed, “It’s been so long since you’ve visited me at my shop. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Count. But I’m afraid we’re here on official business, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, dear, where are my manners? Please, won’t you come inside?” He stepped back to open the door a little wider. “I was just about to have my afternoon tea. Would you care to join me?”
“We’d be delighted,” Jill replied and took Leon’s hand and practically dragged him forward.
“If you’ll follow me to the parlor,” D gestured toward the couch and chairs but Leon was already making his way to his usual sitting place as he said, “Please, won’t you be seated? I’ll be back in jus a moment.”
“Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly,” Leon muttered under his breath. Jill swatted him on the shoulder, the disdainful expression on her face clearly saying, ‘Grow up, Leon!’
D returned in a few moments, rolling a tea cart lain out with white linen, and a porcelain tea set and what appeared to be either a cheesecake or a pie. Knowing D, it could be either. He laid out the tea set, poured tea gracefully and served each of his guests a piece of tiramisu before setting a piece on his own plate. Normally, his movements were smooth and almost inhumanly graceful, but today Leon noticed that there was an odd stiffness about his manner that he had never noticed before.
He also couldn’t help notice that D, who always wore the most outlandish outfits known to Man, at least as far as he was concerned, was wearing an exceptionally elaborate robe in shades of bright red. The bell-like sleeves, long and diaphanous, trailed almost to the ground, and the fabric, obviously pure silk, was hand embroidered with a gold dragon under the neckline and a phoenix and peony design near the hem. Leon had lived in Los Angeles and had worked around Chinatown long enough to have picked up that the dragon and phoenix motif often symbolized the balance of Yin & Yang, male and female.
“What’s with the get up?” Leon blurted, gesturing toward the outfit with his cup. “I’m used to seeing you in dresses, but, Jesus, that one takes the cake.”
Leon winced when Jill kicked him under the table. Fortunately, the act was hidden behind the safety of the tea cart’s linen and was not remarked upon by D, but whether it was because he was being polite or honestly hadn’t noticed, he couldn’t say. All he did know at the moment was that one of Jill’s damn three inch heels had made a clear shot to his shin bone and it now hurt like hell.
Jill glared at Leon and quickly turned a gracious smile to their host. “What I’m sure Leon meant to say,” Here she shot a look of pure daggers in her partner’s direction, “is that the outfit you’re wearing today is exceptionally beautiful. Is it for some special occasion?”
D smiled, but it seemed strained to Leon, who was watching him carefully, trying to puzzle out what was going on with the other man. He seemed almost… nervous.
“Yes, it is for a special occasion,” he admitted quietly, setting his cup down beside his still untouched piece of tiramisu. That alone told Leon that something was definitely up. The Count wasn’t one to skimp on his sweets. “I will be meeting with my grandfather tonight… to discuss my future.”
“Your granddad, you say?” Leon leaned forward, interested. “I’ve heard about this mysterious man for almost two years but I’ve never laid eyes on him. So, what sort of plans does the old man have for you? Planning on opening another shop full of man-eating rabbits?”
“Leon!” Jill snapped, horrified.
Holding up a hand, D replied, “No, there will not be a second shop, Detective Orcot. The matter that we shall discuss is a private one. Family matters. I’m sure you understand.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say.”
“And how is your brother, Detective Orcot?” D asked, glancing over at the other man and making an obvious effort to change the topic of conversation.
“Chris is fine, just fine.” Leon mumbled, cutting a quick glance at the still fuming Jill, then added grudgingly. “Thanks for asking.”
“Isn’t this the weekend that he goes camping with the Thompson family?”
D sipped his tea, oblivious to the incredulous look Jill was giving Leon, and calmly waited for Leon’s reply.
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Leon began, shifting in his seat. “Mrs. Thompson is supposed to pick up Chris and her son, Jack, after school. Then, after dropping the rat off at Dad’s place,” he couldn’t quite suppress a small shudder at the mention of the rodent, “they were going to go up to the Angeles National Forest for a few days.”
He stabbed his fork into his piece of tiramisu and used the edge of the fork to cut off a large section, which he then stuffed into his mouth.
“Hey, this is pretty good, Count.”
Count D inclined his head graciously, and looked mildly surprised that he hadn’t bitched about the dessert being too damned sweet for once.
“Thank you,” he murmured, “I’m pleased that you like it.”
“The thing is,” Leon continued around a mouthful of cake, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea anymore. And I’ve been thinking about calling Mrs. Thompson and asking her to cancel the trip.”
“But why would you want to do such a thing?” D asked, “Chris has been looking forward to this camping trip for weeks.”
Leon swallowed and then forked off another section of pie. “That was before I knew there was a werewolf on the loose.”
“Oh, dear me,” D reached out and laid a hand on Leon’s arm. The contact sent tiny shivers up his spine and to other, more intimate areas. He pulled his arm out from under D’s hand and leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
“So, that’s why we’re here.” He said, then pushed back his plate and got down to business. “Now, what can you tell me about this werewolf, D?”
Several seconds of silence passed and D simply looked at him. It suddenly became so quiet in the pet shop that he could hear the distant ticking of an unseen clock. Even the animals had stopped their distant chattering.
“I assure you, Detective Orcot, as a pet shop keeper and as someone personally fascinated with mythical and supernatural creatures, I know a great deal about Lycanthropes in general,” he gently stressed the last two words as he pulled his hand back. He folded his hands and placed them in his lap. “But as to this particular Lycanthrope, I have no knowledge that may be of any use. I am sorry.”
Count D rose slowly to his feet, a clear indication that the interrogation, for that’s what it was despite the social niceties, was over.
“Wait, Count D,” Jill rose, stretching her hand out in an attempt to salvage the situation, which had somehow fallen apart at the seams for reasons she wasn’t able to fathom. “The boy’s name is Joshua Fletcher and if he isn’t found and contained before the full moon someone will get hurt. Someone may even die. We need to find him before that can happen. Anything you could possibly tell us would be useful.”
D sighed and sat down somewhat reluctantly, “The son of Margaret Fletcher, the famous lawyer?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I have heard of this young man you speak of. His name has been in the news and papers before. This Joshua Fletcher, he is a young man.” D picked up his teacup but instead of drinking from it, he turned it round and round in his hands slowly as if examining the intricate patterns or checking for flaws. “He was diagnosed with Lycanthrope Disorder at a relatively young age?”
“Yeah, he’d just turned eighteen when he had his first… attack, if that’s the correct word for it. He’s been institutionalize for the last three years so he should be twenty-one by now. ”
“And he was born with the disorder, not infected by another Lycanthrope?”
“Yes, his mother was an asymptomatic carrier of the Lycanthropy Disorder. It didn’t manifest itself until after he turned eighteen.”
D finally sipped his tea, which must have been rather cool by that point for he made a slight moue of displeasure before setting the cup down on the saucer in front of him.
“And his family,” he continued, “Do they still live in California? I would assume that that is the case as Mrs. Fletcher is still making headlines in the local newspapers.”
“She’s working on a pro bono case up in Sacramento, but she and her younger son,” Jill paused and Leon could practically see her mind working to retrieve the name of the younger son. Hell, he hadn’t known there had been a brother, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard it mentioned, he just didn’t have the power of recall that his partner did.
“Ian, that’s his name.” she snapped her fingers triumphantly, pleased that she had recalled the name. “She and Ian still live in California. In fact, they live right here in Los Angeles.”
“Then you should contact them. The sooner they are aware of the situation, the better.” D tapped his pursed lips with one finger. “I would imagine that the Institution would have already contacted them by now to tell them of the escape, but it would be best to contact them again, in case they didn’t get the message. They need to be warned because Joshua will, no doubt, try to return home, to those who love him, understand him.”
“Right,” Jill nodded her head. “I guess that should have been obvious.”
“I must warn you both, Detectives, it will not be as easy to apprehend this young man as you seem to think, even if you do find him before the full moon.”
“What do you mean by that?” Leon demanded.
D stood and began gathering up the dishes and utensils, effectively ignoring Leon’s question. The black curtain of his hair fell forward to hide the triangle of his face. “What will happen to Joshua if he is found before the full moon?” he asked quietly.
“He’ll be taken back to the California State Institute for Werewolves,” Jill replied with quiet honesty, “By force if necessary.”
“And if he transforms?” D asked. His voice was still terribly quiet as if he already suspected the answer and didn’t like it. “What will happen then?”
“Then they’ll call me in,” Leon said gruffly. “And I’ll hunt him down and put a silver bullet in his brain.”
“And you could do this?” D turned his attention toward the other man and the outrage was clear in his face, his voice. “Hunt down a fellow human being and end his life, just like that?”
“He’s not a human being, D,” Leon retorted angrily, almost shouting. “Not anymore. Now, he’s just a monster. If he goes furry in the middle of Los Angeles, then a whole hell of a lot of people could get hurt, or end up dead… or worse.”
He slammed his cup down on the table and tea sloshed over the rim, over his hands and onto the table. The chair legs grated against the tile as he pushed violently away from the table and stood, his body trembling with pent up fury.
“So, yeah, D, to answer your question, I could do it. I have to. It’s my fucking job. And it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
“And you call Lycanthropes monsters.” D’s voice was low, dangerous. “I think you should take a careful look in the mirror, Mr. Detective, to see who the real monster is.”
The two men stood glaring at each other over the table, faces set in angry stone. The spilled tea streamed over the edge of the table to patter against the tile floor.
“I think you should leave, Detective,” D whispered hoarsely, “Now.”
“Oh my, look at the time. I guess we should get back to work.” Jill rose and took Leon’s arm and tugged at him in an effort to get him moving. For a moment he stood as if rooted the spot, but after a few more insistent tugs he seemed to get the idea.
“We’re leaving, Leon.” Jill hissed, “Let’s go.”
Not a word passed between the partners as they made their way to Leon’s car. He unlocked his door, slid behind the wheel, and pulled the door behind him with more force than actually necessary. The adrenaline spike of anger had fizzled away leaving him feeling drained and unhappy. He hadn’t meant to lose his cool back there like that, but something inside had just snapped. Sighing heavily, he rested his elbows against the steering wheel and his head in the palms of his hands.
Jill slid in beside him. “Well, that could have gone better.” She fastened her safety harness and glanced over at Leon, head in hands, looking like someone had killed his best friend. “What the hell happened in there, Leon?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just sort of lost it, you know?” He didn’t turn his head to meet Jill’s gaze, he could tell just from her voice how upset with him she was.
“That’s the understatement of the year.” He heard her sigh and it was no longer an angry sound, but one of concern. Crap, he could deal with her anger, but her concern drove him up the wall. “The past couple of weeks you’ve been irritable and on edge, Leon. I mean, you’ve always been an asshole, but this is something completely different. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, rolling his shoulders. “At least nothing I can put my finger on. I just… don’t feel like myself anymore.” He barked harsh laughter. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t know how else to explain it. I can’t seem to keep a lid on my temper.”
Jill’s eyebrows rose skeptically at this.
“Okay,” he amended, “I’ve always had problems with my temper, you know that, but it’s never been this bad before, I swear,” he sighed then closed his eyes and laid his head against the headrest for a moment before turning his gaze to Jill. His blue eyes seemed clouded, troubled.
“And that’s not the only thing that I’ve noticed that’s been different lately, either. I know it sounds funny, but noises… they seem much louder than they used to be. And lights are brighter somehow. And don’t even get me started on smells. Like your perfume.”
Jill looked puzzled. “I’m not wearing any perfume today, Leon.” She said gently.
“Maybe not today you’re not, but you wore that jacket last week and that day you wore Il Bacio. I remember because I asked you what you were wearing.”
“Yes, it was a gift from my mother.” Jill said slowly, “But how could you still smell it now? I can barely smell it and I’m wearing the jacket.”
“I don’t know how I can,” Leon growled, “All I know is that I’m almost drowning in a world of scents and it’s driving me up the fucking wall. Hell, you know what? I could actually tell D was nervous about something when we arrived at the shop earlier. Just from the scent of him. It’s fucking insane!”
He laid his head on the steering wheel and closed his eyes. “It gives me headaches,” he mumbled wearily, “And aspirin doesn’t do any good.”
“Maybe you should go see a doctor,” Jill suggested. “Get yourself checked out. You may have a tumor or something.”
Leon shuddered at the thought. “No way,” he shook his head slowly because moving quickly sent spikes of pain through his brain. “The last thing I need is another God damned doctor.”
Lord knows he had had to deal with enough of them as a kid. Almost every month it seemed his mother had dragged him to see this doctor or that specialist for one reason or another, almost as if she was expecting to find something. But, aside from his stint in the hospital after the attack, he was fairly healthy. But all the tests, the poking and the probing had installed in him a deeply seeded dread of doctors. Now, he only went when there was something obviously wrong – like when he’d been shot. Otherwise, the over the counter drug aisle of the local grocery store provided all the necessary solutions to his health related problems.
He tried to pass it off as his mother being paranoid after he had had such a terrible near death experience, but sometimes he wondered what it was exactly that she had been looking for and what she had expected to find. Of course he could never find out now. That mystery had gone with his mother to her grave.
He turned and offered what he hoped was a winning smile, but it felt strained along the edges. “Maybe I just need to take you and Dad’s advice and get laid.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” Jill agreed, “And it may do you a world of good.”
Leon laughed then winced at the pain it had produced. He inserted his key into the ignition and started the car. For once it came to life with a roar and not a whimper. Damn car was on its last legs. “Next you’ll be suggesting I go out and hire a hooker.”
Now it was Jill’s turn to laugh. “Hell, if your attitude doesn’t improve soon, I’ll go and get one for you.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER CHAPTER 06
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Date: 2008-04-07 07:02 am (UTC)I kind of spent the first part remembering what exactly happened in the last chapters, so I had to re-read it because I'm a forgetful goof, but oh well.
I really like your style of writing and how you portray the characters, you do it in a way unlike many other authors that I've read from. Plus you always leave me on a freakin' cliff-hanger (I've gotta get you to stop doing that), so I keep coming back for more... hehehe.
Anyways, great job [again]! Post again sooooon! For me? *^-^*;