A/N: This is a collabration between KuroAlma and Eric Draven201 (me). Right now, we aren't sure just what genre to put this under... but we'll figure it out eventually. Anyways, we don't own Bull-crap... except maybe the Kenyan. Please enjoy and please don't for get to review... that's our bread and butter 'round these parts!
Diable de la Lune
Chapter 1: First Full
Moving. Day. Sucks! You guessed it! My family is packing up their lives in little cardboard boxes to be shipped out to God knows where. For as long as I could remember, my family traveled... a lot. I don't even know if I ever stayed in a town long enough to make a single friend. We weren't a military family or anything, but at times it sure felt like it. My father worked as an interpreter for a 'Fortune 500' company, I could honestly care less of its name. We always had to pack up and move at the company's whim so that he could translate to the 'big wigs' what their foreign business partners wanted.
Moving was always met with its own complications. The first issue was school. No, I never went to school. My parents thought it was best to home school me, because they believed that placing me into a mainstream school and then uprooting me would be too difficult. Second was companionship. As a home schooler, you don't make many friends, so your only other option was to get a pet. At first there was a goldfish, but it died within a few weeks. Then there was the puppy. The tragic story of my puppy. We adopted him from a shelter and then six months later we got the word from up top that it was time to move again. Once again that poor dog was put up for adoption. Now you ask, why not just take the dog with you... The answer was pretty simple. Animals don't travel well and sometimes the little critters are not allowed in the houses we move into. We don't question why we can't have them; we just do... especially when you live in a house practically for free. From then on, I wasn't allowed to have a pet, because it wouldn't be fair to the animal. Fair to the animal? What about me?
I'm sorry. I must sound selfish to you. I guess I'm entitled to be, since I am an only child. Under different circumstances, my parents would have probably had another child. But they haven't had the chance to settle down just yet. Heh... settle. Now that's a foreign word. I don't know what to make of it. I've gotten comfortable before, but never had I settled.
I sat on the floor and stared at a box just in front of me. I remember the last time I packed it. I didn't dare to unpack it in this house, because I was determined not to let the company catch me off-guard again. Of all the places I had been, I never bothered to learn the native tongue. I mean... what was the use? I'd be gone in a few months anyhow. Of course, I learned the basics: Where's the food... I need to pee... and where do I sleep? All of the phrases that I thought sufficient to survive.
Another man entered what use to be my room and removed the box I was focusing on. I had enough of this house and the dusty marketplace near it. I got up and walked out to take my last steps in Morocco. I walked and kept walking past the children playing soccer in an empty lot and past the bazaar where the marketers attempted to beckon me closer to see their wares. Towards the end I happened across my reflection in an old clock a man was peddling. There I stood with coffee colored eyes staring with a jaded expression on my face. My once caramel skin now seared by the hot sun into a complexion something more akin to milk chocolate. My golden-brown hair is done in a thick shag of dreadlocked braids, ending just below my neck. Mom had nagged that I should cut my hair, but she gave in when I at least promised to keep it neat.
I continued down the boulevard, going nowhere in particular. I stopped at food stall and bought what was sure to be my final authentic kabob. I finished it off and headed back to the house. Once I got back there, the movers had already finished up and Dad had called me over to car so that we could head to the airport. It was a two hour drive to Casablanca where we boarded our plane, an eight hour flight to Heathrow in London, followed by a day long lay-over. From there, another extra long flight into Montreal, our final destination.
Who would have 'thunk' it? Another French speaking country. Bonjour... Où est la nourriture? ... J'ai besoin de faire pipi... Où dors-je? No problem... it's not like a language ever stopped Dad from doing his job. Why Canada, I thought to myself, I'll be like the only Black guy there.
Night had once again settled upon us, but this time in a new city. Dad thought it was best to check into a hotel for the night and then check out or new house tomorrow... at least when our things were due to arrive. Moving is always a tiring experience, but I found myself to be extremely restless. I needed to get out. I threw on a black tee shirt, a pair of jeans, and a jacket with some black sneakers. I grabbed the card key to the hotel room and went out to face the moonlit city.
I traipsed across the main Rues and down the empty alleyways. The back areas were dotted with the homeless that I'm sure city officials tried to keep away from the public eyes and away from the knowledge of the tourists. Some were huddled together in a hopeless attempt to combat the chill. Pray they survive the night. I went farther near an old brownstone apartment building and passed its front. There I spied a white cat waiting patiently on the front stoop. It was probably a stray, although it did appear to be well. It stared at me, with its eyes shimmering in the moonlight. It broke its glare when the front door of the apartment opened. It didn't run and it didn't make a sound. It stood its ground and eyed the young woman in a pink nightgown that appeared at the door. She placed a plate of food on the porch and reached down to pet the cat. It moved into her loving touch. She retreated into the warmth of the building and the cat made quick work of the food. It padded down the steps, across the street and towards me. From there I got a better look at the as it passed. He... and I'm guessing it's a he... had a fluffy, but well groomed white coat, bright blue eyes with a ribbon of equal hue tied around his neck.
The more I looked at him, the more I began to believe that the cat belonged to someone. Did he belong to that woman or was he an extremely street savvy cat? He strutted off with his tail held high, which resembled a puffy cloud of smoke. Strange creature, I thought to myself. With that, I went back to the hotel to grab some sleep.
I backtracked through the alleys trying to remember how to get back the hotel. Do I make a left here or a right...? Shit! I was lost. Each city I ever lived in was an urban exploration experience... I'd wander and somehow found my way back. But now, I couldn't make heads or tails of the Labyrinth called Montreal. It was like something was jamming my sense of direction. I remembered making two rights and I was flanked by two walls and another crossing in front of me. Just as was making my about-face to head into the other direction, I saw the little white fur-ball in front of me, hissing wildly. It stood in front of the only opening in the alley with its hair standing on end. "What the hell's up with you," I asked it, not expecting a response, "There's nothing there, you dumb cat."
No sooner did I insult the animal, a blood-red portal opened just above us. It rippled like wind moving across the sea. A set of dark hooves slid down with ease out of the opening to reveal as near as I could tell a goat. It wasn't the Billy goat that I was used to seeing when we lived in Jerusalem. It had dark brown fur all over his body with black on his head and back with curling horns on top of its head. Its eyes were a shocking crimson. As he descended slowly to the pavement in front of us, I noticed that the goat-thingy had furry hands instead front hoofs. In fact it seemed more human like, especially with it standing on its hind legs. At that point, I was sure that my brown eyes bulging from their sockets.
It roared malevolently at me and I just about wet my pants! I stupidly backed away from the demonic-looking goat, cornering myself in the process. I couldn't stop staring and I didn't have the good sense to run. The only thing that broke me out of my fear-induced stupor was seeing the cat pouncing on the goat, garnering a very loud, "BAAAAAAH," as it was tackled. I didn't have time to absorb the WTF moment. Instincts kicked in as I grabbed a wooden chair that was sticking out of the dumpster. I held it to the side as I got a running start at it, swinging the chair madly like a crazy person. Before I knew it I was like a pro-wrestler slamming the chair into the goat over until it was reduced to splinters. The goat bleated again before it disappeared into another rippling red puddle. "Yeah," I gloated, "go back to wherever you came! Triple H ain't got nothing on me!" I look around and notice that I'm all alone. The goat was gone and so was that cat. It was just me and the pile of chipped wood. I dropped the remainder and ran off. I miraculously found the main Rue and rush back to the hotel. Within moments, I had slipped back into the room, unnoticed and swore that I'd never mention what happened tonight.
The sun rose and Dad was ready to take a look at the house. We checked out and hopped into our rented car and made the five mile trip to a Suburban area known as Mount Royal Village. We made it to our new house just before a moving van pulled up. The men hopped out and unloaded, placing a myriad of boxes and half-assembled furniture in their correct rooms. And like clockwork they were gone. We toured the house and Mom fell in love. I had to admit it was nice. It was bigger than the place in Spain, but a little smaller than the one Russia. Mom and Dad began to unpack and I toured the area, stepping down random avenues and boulevards. Before I knew it I was at an open-air farmer's market. I walked down to see corridor after corridor of bustling stalls. The freshest fruits, vegetables, flowers and there were even some seafood for sale. I continued down the aisle to see the same white cat from the night before.
He stood there and eyed me, waiting for me to make my move. And I bent down to pet him. He twisted his back up and down making a wave of fur. He moved in closer and then made a swipe at my leg. "Hey," I shouted. Before I could do anything, he had run off. I looked down to see that he had slashed a hole one of the lower pockets in my cargo pants. I would have been fine with just the hole, but with it, came the discovery that my money was gone and that it was nowhere near me. The friggin'cat stole my money! I turned to see that the animal was practically galloping down the corridor. I got up ran after him shouting, "Give me back my money!"
I chased the little white fur-ball down one corner of the market to another, before I lost it. Damn! Its not every day that your money is stolen by a cat! I spotted a police officer leaning against a fence near one of the stalls. For a while, I debated whether or not if I should say something. I decided that I'd go and plead my case. I mean... what was the harm? I tell him and he would probably feel sorry and give me at least five bucks.
"Excuse me sir," I began, not sure if the man knew any English, "Umm... I'd like to report that my money was stolen."
"Really," he replied, "by whom." I was a little taken aback, considering that the man not only spoke English, but better than I.
"Well, I," I said rather sheepishly, "a cat."
"Really? Look, I don't have time to deal with childish pranks."
"No, I'm serious! It was a little white cat with a blue ribbon around its neck."
The officer put his finger up as if to tell me to wait. He walked away a few feet to a colleague that I hadn't noticed before. I could tell that he was telling the other man of my ordeal, because soon I heard a deep, rich laugh from him. No help whatsoever.
I left and stopped at a stall where a man was setting some fresh fish on some ice. "Have you seen a white cat with money in his mouth," I asked flatly as I made hand gestures to make my words clearer.
"Un Chat," he said, "Non." At least he understood what I was talking about. I let out a dejected sigh. "Why would a cat need money," the man mused aloud in a thick accent, "He can't buy anything."
I didn't even feel like making a reply. I was just about to turn to head "home," when a snowy white blur passed just out the corner of my eye. I turned to see that crafty cat leapt onto the counter. He dropped a few bills and coins on the counter and waited patiently. The man put a nice sized fish on the counter and raked the money into his pocket. The cat bit into the fish and took off with it.
"What the hell was that," I shout at the man, "I thought you can't sell fish to a cat!"
"What are you talking about? I didn't sell anything to a cat."
"Then what the hell was that?! What took the fish?!"
"Le petit fantôme blanc. Cats can't buy anything. Now a ghost is perfectly capable of purchasing food." I'm not sure what face I made at that point. Did I stare in disbelief? I don't know. But I'm sure that the shock I felt when he said that, was painted all over my face.
"Now are you going to buy something or not," he began raising his voice in anger as he violently waved a butcher knife around, "I don't have time to talk about invisible cats." At this point, I began to slowly back away from the man who proved that the crazies walk among us.
I shuffled along, needing some time to process exactly what happened today. My money was stolen by a cat... The same cat bought fish from a crazy vendor... then I was mind-fucked in two... nope make it three different languages (if you count the demon goat). What a day! Before I knew it, my wandering brought me to that same brownstone apartment from last night. There I saw the same woman as before, sitting on the stoop petting the cat. That sneaky bastard! That... Phantom. That's what I decided to call him. I've seen him enough times, so I'm entitled to name him, aren't I? Phantom... hell, that's what the old fish butcher called him... le petit fantôme blanc, the little white phantom. Don't get me wrong... I didn't consciously take up the language. I merely picked up on it.
I decided that I needed to have a talk with the cat lady and maybe demand for my money back. "Welcome back, kitty," I heard as I approached. She was a beautiful woman. She had curly, brunette locks that framed her soft fair face. She was dressed in yellow sweater and blue jeans. She seemed so innocent, like she'd never hurt a fly. She must have heard me coming because, she looked up and greeted be with a friendly, "Bonsoir!"
"Bonsoir," I returned, "is that your cat." No time to mince words.
She giggled. "No," she said, "he is how you say..." She searched for the word for a moment, "a stray."
"So, you take care of him," I asked.
"No, he takes care of himself, but sometimes I leave him something to eat." Aw, Man! Not only is she super nice, but the little bastard doesn't even belong to her. There's no way that I can get my money back from her.
I breathed out an exasperated sigh and sat a few steps below her. I could have sworn that the cat rolled his eyes at me. "He used to have owners," the woman offered. I raised my eyebrows to show that I was listening.
"Yes, an old woman down the rue used to keep this cat in her flat. She died over ten years ago and le petite chat was left to wander all alone. He's a smart kitty, though. He learned to survive on his own."
Smart was right. She held the crafty son-of-a-bitch in her lap. He licked his chops and smiled at me. I swear it did!
"I think his a bit old," she continued out of the blue.
"Why do you say that?"
"Well... I played with him ever since I could remember. Papa said that he played with him when he was little. Quite a few people around here are familiar with this cat." The animal didn't honestly look old and decrepit. He looked like he could have been a newborn kitten just a few years ago. He curled up in her lap, his body forming a perfect "o" and purred.
"Have you heard of the story of the demon and the witch?"
"No," I shook my head.
"The legend goes that there was a beautiful witch who hunted demons. She vowed that one day; she would rid the world of all of those evil creatures. There came a day when she feel in love with a man. He then turned out to be a demon himself. Feeling that she couldn't kill her love, she used a spell to strip him of his powers and turned him into her pet. Years passed and she died of old age. The cat howled for her, disbelieving that the old woman was his love. It is said that on the night of the full moon, he regains his powers and sheds his beastly form and roams the city to search for her."
She looked down at me and then said, "Je suis désolé. I'm boring you aren't I?"
"N-no."
"Its okay. I have to get dinner started anyways. I'm Aimee," she reached a hand down to shake mine.
"Kenny... and it was nice to meet you," I replied, taking her hand in mine.
"Enchanté," she said.
"I'd better head back," I said rather dumbly. She nodded and that was that. I took off for the house.
Surprisingly, it wasn't all that far from the woman's flat. Within the hour, I was at the front door, knocking because I hadn't thought to get a key before I left. Mom answered the door and instructed me to get ready for dinner. I stepped inside to see that the major furniture was for the most part, were already set up and that decorations and wall treatments were hanging proudly. The kitchen was also set up with care. They sure did unpack quickly. What did I expect? They are like experts by now.
"Kenyan," she said in a stern voice, "What have I told you about pets?"
"No pets," I began as I turned to face her, "but I d-" To my surprise, Phantom had followed me home. Stupid little fur-ball!
"Send him back wherever he came."
I looked at her and said, "I have no idea where he came from. He must have followed me." She took a closer look at the cat and saw how well groomed he was.
"He must belong to someone," she said, "strays normally don't look this clean and well-fed. First thing in the morning, you need to find out who owns him." I wondered why the sudden change of heart.
But she must have read my mind because she then said, "Poor thing... we can't leave him out in the cold tonight."
I scooped up the cat and took him up to my room. Once up there, I noticed that my book shelf and bed were fully assembled. Phantom jumped out of arms and scaled his way to the top of my shelf. Damned cat. I made sure that the windows were closed before I left Phantom to his nap. I'd be damned if I was held responsible because he decided to jump out of a window. I went down stairs again, washed my hands and sat down to dinner.
My mother, God bless her, cooks like a five star chef, but sometimes I wish she'd settle on Sloppy Joe's once and a while. Tonight's menu boasted mixed vegetables, rice and broiled salmon. Great... more fish. I take a few bites from the rice and the veggies and pushed the rest around the plate.
"What's the matter, son," Dad asked, "You were out exploring the city all day. Didn't you have any fun?"
"Yeah... I'm just not hungry. That's all. I think the cat's starving. May I take this up to him?" Mom nodded and I excused myself from the table with the plate. I brought the food to the room and placed in on the floor, near the door. Phantom detected the aroma in the air and practically pounced on top of the plate. The salmon was gone in the matter of seconds and I found myself wondering why he wasn't fat. When he finished, I took the plate back downstairs to wash it. By the time I got back to my room, Phantom had found a comfortable spot on my bed.
I sat beside him, unpacking some boxes, putting some of the items away. I looked over to the next box and spotted a leather bound bundle leaning against the wall behind it. I walked over and unwrapped the bindings. It was the double-sided sword Grandpa gave me for my birthday. When he handed it to me he only said, "Just in case." He called the Sun and Moon. The sword had two retractable blades coming from a center hilt. Positioning it to left, brought forth the Sun and the right was the Moon. If the hilt was centered both blades would extend from either side.
Mom and Dad protested him giving me the sword, but when he passed away they let me have it as a keepsake. Grandpa told me that I was special, that I can do and see what others couldn't. When I was younger, I hung on his every word. But now that I'm older, I'm not so sure that I believe that anymore. I fiddled with the sword as I swam in my thoughts about the cat on my bed.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the cat wasn't all that bad. I began to ask myself why I was so upset. That I had come into the company of a wise animal? Was I mad that the cat had saved my life? Or was it the money? I patted my empty pocket... Yep, it was the money.
By now, I was getting sleepy and I was thankful at how efficient we were at moving. Not only was I sleeping in a bed, but the cable had already been set up! I turned on the T.V. and flipped through the channels before setting on Adult Swim. Shin Chan was on. It was an old episode... the one where the rabbit scares the mess out of Penny and her mother. I loved that one. Every now and then I chuckle at the madness before dozing a little. I look over to see Phantom lying at my feet and the last thing I saw was the full moon outside of my window.
My eyes sprang open at the sound of Phantom hissing at the window. "Again?" I wearily dragged myself from the bed to see what had gotten the cat upset. I was in full-denial about the goat from earlier, so I made up my mind that maybe the wind blew too hard, sending a twig against the window or something. I was just about to write off the crazy cat when I saw the weirdest thing... ever.
Phantom stood up on his hind legs and seemed to grow to a height of around six feet. His snowy fur went receded into milky-white skin. Before I knew it, There was a tall man of wiry muscle, with platinum hair standing stark naked in front of my bedroom window. "It's here," he uttered softly. Half a second later, that oh-so familiar portal of red appeared in front of him with another goat stepping out. It made a move to punch the man, but he caught it mid-swing with one hand. He looked over his shoulder at me with his piercing cold-blue eyes. Then he said, with a chilly edge evident in his voice, "Boy, give me the sword."
Eric: Who be the nakey man?
Kuro: I'm not telling... they'll just have to find out in the next chapter.
We hope that you enjoyed chapter one and we expect to have another soon, so please stick around.
