It rarely snowed in Los Angeles, but you didn't need a blanket of snow to tell what time of year it was, especially if you were Detective Leon Orcot. Signs were all around him, whether he liked it or not. There had been tinsel and garland strung around his desk, a jingling bundle of bells attached to the rear view mirror on his car, and a piece of mistletoe hanging over his apartment door. The mistletoe had been torn down and stuffed deep into his coat pocket as he stormed out of the building, ready to confirm his suspicions over who might have been haunting him with holiday cheer.
When he got downtown however, the sight of Count D's shop was enough to halt the seasoned cop dead in his tracks. Imagine, if you would, that someone had raided the holiday section of the local Sam's Club and dumped it onto a usually innocent-looking storefront, so that there was an almost hazardous clash of Asian boutique style and colored fairy lights, a bubbly looking inflatable Santa on the step leading to the front door, on which hung a giant wreath. After clearing his head from the sight of it all, Leon took great pleasure in kicking aside the inflatable Santa and watching it roll down the hill and get stuck to the grill of a passing bus.
But the worse, as usual, was yet to come. When he opened the door, Leon was overcome with the smells of the usual incense combined with something like antiseptic and tree sap. Leon managed to cover his mouth and nose with a handkerchief found in his coat pocket before stumbling through the store front and onto the usual couch where he saw Count D - except that the mysterious Count was nowhere in sight. He could, however, hear the sound of someone rattling about in the kitchen, no doubt making tea for the mountain of sweets currently on the coffee table. Leon wondered, scowling, how many of his rich friends had so graciously gifted Count D with the boxes of candies and chocolates. Not that he was jealous, not at all; Christmas was a child's holiday. He didn't give a crap if anyone gave him presents (well, maybe some booze or a dirty magazine or the sweetest gift of all - the Chinese count behind bars on Christmas Day; still, a man could dream).
Count D emerged from the kitchen, holding a tea tray and looking positively normal. He was in his typical kimono and sandals, a stark contrast to the festive decor around him. As he set down the tray on the one clean spot on the table not overcome by bakery boxes, Leon watched him with his typical suspicious expression, even as Count D wordlessly began serving tea to both of them.
"What's going on, Count?" Leon said, peering through the steam drifting off the cup of tea in his hand. "You usually don't get this cheery over a holiday unless its Halloween. Or Easter. Or anytime you can get candy for free."
Count D pulled one of his false-surprised faces. "Why, Detective, I haven't a clue what you mean." Pale tapered fingers grasped the handle of a tea cup as he took a measured sip, inhaling the vapors freely.
"The store front. The smells. The everything."
"Oh!" Count D acted as if he'd just realized his shop had turned into a walking Christmas display overnight. "Well, you know how young Chris loves Christmas, and he can be very persuasive ---"
" --- what do you mean, he's only six --- "
" -- and he convinced me that for just one year, the pet shop should look a little bit more . . . in the Yuletide spirit, so to speak." Count D frowned. "It's a little garish for my tastes, but I understand this is how the typical American would decorate their home."
Leon almost interjected that the shop was not a home, until he remembered that the Count probably lived upstairs, sleeping with the exotic pets like blankets on a bed. He hid his discomfort by taking a long drink of tea. And then he finally spoke his mind. "I hate it."
Count D raised an eyebrow. "You hate it, Leon? I thought you loved it when everything was bigger."
He decided not to fall into Count D's little trap and scoffed. "I'm not a little kid like Chris. Even adults get tired of Christmas."
When Leon heard Count D sigh, almost dramatically, he knew the man was up to no good. And he was right. "Normally, I would not interfere in the course of human lives, mundane as they are," Count D started.
"Bullshit!" Leon interjected, scowling.
Count D huffed a little, but continued. "I will, however, make an exception for my dear detective. Perhaps you need a gift to bring you back into the holiday spirit. A nice pet, perhaps?"
As Count D began to prattle on about the assortment of pets that could make any man happy during the holidays, Leon found himself sinking further back into his chair, utterly drained. Who exactly turned the chessboard around so that Count D was the one lecturing Leon about not having a heart? What the hell happened? Shouldn't it be Leon demanding that Count D show a little compassion to others? And yet here he was, as the Count droned on about gifts and fantastic beasts and the true meaning of Christmas, as if he knew what that was.
The only thing that Leon saw fit to do was to set his teacup down on the tray and stand up, cutting Count D off mid-sentence. "My dear detective, are you leaving so soon?"
Leon looked stony-faced at the other man. "I've got a lot of importance police work to do, so if you don't mind." And with that, he made his way toward the door, trench coat billowing angrily behind him, not bothering to see if the Count would follow.
"I understand, Detective Orcot," Count D said simply, watching the man's back retreat into the cold of winter, door shutting behind him with a loud shudder. He pursed his lips in worry and absentmindedly tugged at the sleeve of his kimono. Something was wrong about this, and right then and there the Count vowed to find out what it was. And that meant pursuing Detective Orcot to find out what it exactly was. As he bundled up in his winter coat, Count D could not help but smile at the odd role reversal; it was the suspect investigating the detective. Curioser and curioser.
He did, however, give his store front a wistful look of regret as he locked the pet shop up; he had been growing fond of that inflatable Santa doll.
Detective Leon Orcot was a good cop. He did his work well. It was a shame that he couldn't tell when he was being followed, although it was lucky for his tailer that his sour mood made him oblivious to his presence. Count D thought he was well hidden under his coat and scarf and hat; he thought about adding a pair of dark sunglasses, but decided that would attract too much attention. Besides, his eyes were too nice to be hidden behind gawky big shades.
The first place Leon went was the local coffee house, where he ordered a large (grande?) to go and ended up drinking half of it in one go, not minding that it had scalded his tongue, before dumping the rest in the trash. Count D made a tsk-tsk noise at the mess but continued to follow him downtown, across three busy streets, past several clothing stores with fronts so attractive he had to contain himself from going inside and ordering something nice, and then - all the way to the front steps of the police headquarters, where Count D once again watched the other man retreat through the doors, unable to follow him inside without suspicion.
So he decided to walk all the way uptown to Leon's apartment, noticing that the mistletoe was suspiciously absent. But Chris was there, cleaning up Leon's apartment as a Christmas surprise. Count D helped the young boy clean up the place, all the while planning what to do with Leon. When he brought up the subject with Chris, the boy was surprisingly direct.
'Big brother just wants someone to be with on Christmas.'
"But he has you," Count D pointed out.
Chris dumped a bundle of trash into the bin. 'It's not the same. He wants an adult friend, like you.'
Count D wondered if Chris realized what exactly an 'adult friend' usually meant; he decided to leave the Talk for Leon to do once it became time. Still, what Chris had set had set a light bulb off in his head. It was at that moment that he began forming a plan.
He returned back to the pet shop, confident in his designs.
When Leon came home, the first thing he noticed was how clean everything was, which was a surprise. Chris was there as well, in the kitchen getting himself a can of soda from the fridge, Q-chan hanging around on his shoulder. And then he saw the metal bird cage, sitting empty on his coffee table.
Chris came running into the living room when he heard his older brother's short but loud string of curses, the man rattling the cage as if trying to shake lose some sort of explanation.
'Count D left that there. He said it's for you.' Chris tilted his head to one side curiously. 'He said it only works if you're being good, though.'
"What, did he send me Santa with wings then?" Leon grumbled, looking it over. There was nothing in it! Was this Count D's idea of a joke. Tch. He didn't have time for this. He had things to do. And that gave him an idea.
"Do you still want to sleep over at Count D's for Christmas Eve?" Leon couldn't help but chuckle a little when he saw how excited Chris got at the prospect. And then he said something shocking: "I think I'll come too."
If Chris could talk out loud, everyone in Los Angeles could have heard his shout of surprise at that moment. His elation would be short lived as the both of them later found out the hard way how difficult it is to cram a bird cage into the back of a small car. Still, Leon wasn't going to risk leaving it at home, not when he had an idea for it.
His so called good idea turned out to be not so original. It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve when they got there, and Chris had quickly retreated into the pet shop to play with his friends, leaving Leon and his empty bird cage in the main sitting room with Count D, who was looking curiously at his cage.
"So," Leon said bluntly, "you gonna tell me what I'm supposed to do with this thing or what?" He tried not to notice that there were all new boxes of baked goods and assorted sweets everywhere, and wondered where in the hell the Count was packing away all those extra calories.
"It depends." Count D was holding a hot cup of tea and gently blowing on it as he spoke. "Have you been good?"
"What the hell is that supposed to do with this?"
"Language." Count D gave Leon a mockingly contemptuous look, then continued. "If you're not good, she won't come out to greet you. That is how it works."
Leon leaned back into his chair, sighing. "Yeah. You lost me. What?"
As if mirroring him, Count D leaned forward. "Tell me, my dear detective, what is the real reason you are here?"
"For Chris," Leon said without thinking. "So he can be happy."
"Don't you want to be happy?" Count D smiled. "Isn't that why you came?"
Leon frowned. "No, I came here cause of the cage ---"
"And what is inside the cage? Nothing?" Count D shook his head. "It is a fenghuang; in other words, a Chinese phoenix. She is over four thousand years old, and has lived and died more times that anyone could imagine. And," he added, "she is yours. If you will keep her."
The detective found himself leaning in, gingerly touching the cage sitting between them. "So, um, why can't I see her? Do I have to call her out?"
Count D shook his head. "She dislikes trouble. She can sense the restlessness and discontent in her owner and therefore stays hidden."
Leon blinked. "Me? It's because of me?"
"If you want to put it that way . . . then yes."
Leon fell back into his chair again, slowly processing all this new information. He could feel Count D watching him, and he wondered what the other man was thinking. He looked up at the clock and saw it was five hours until it was officially Christmas. Instead of feeling jolly or festive, he just felt tired. He looked out the window that faced the outside street and could see the occasional passer-by through the fog of night, dimly lit by the streetlight up above. Then he remembered why he came, the real reason that he did not want to realize until just then, and everything made sense.
"Hey, Count D. You got any eggnog in that kitchen of yours?" A faint smile. "I could really use a drink."
Count D smiled back. "Of course. With nutmeg?"
"Of course." Leon laughed, and it felt natural to laugh with him. So they did. And then Count D left only to come back with a glass of eggnog, sprinkled with nutmeg, and it was the best thing he had tasted in a long time. He could faintly here the joyous noises of Chris playing with the animals in the back rooms, and slowly his spirits began to lift. And then he noticed a dark silhouette had fallen across the moonlight on the floor and looked up to see the Count standing by the front window, dressed in his winter coat.
"It is a nice night for stargazing," Count D said. "Care to join me?"
Leon grinned and stood up. "And me without my Santa hat." With his glass of eggnog, he found himself following Count D outside. It had been a while since he had just relaxed and looked up at the stars; Christmas Eve seemed a perfect time to do so. As the door to the shop closed behind them, Leon thought he heard something, like the faint noises of paper rustling around, but shrugged it off.
Standing outside on the practically deserted sidewalk, the stars laid out on the black sky, Leon stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Count D, taking it all in. The feeling was so profound, he didn't notice Count D taking his hand in his, but he did notice a small star landing on his shoulder. No, not a star, a snowflake, followed by another and then another in slow but steady waves.
"First snow of the year," Count D breathed. "It must be an early present." He squeezed the detective's hand, and at that moment, Leon wished that the night would go on just a little bit longer than usual, if he could stay right there in that one certain moment one more time.