Danny pounded on the door, hoping that he had the right address. Sunbeams had scorched him twice, once on the back of his hand and again on his left shoulder, but he considered that much safer that remaining in the sewers with the Count. Now that was a person to inspire nightmares.
"Darla? Please be there, open the door…" Danny could hear the begging in his voice and winced.
The door opened, revealing a blond woman barely in a plum silk robe. "Who… what are you doing here?"
"You have to help us, Darla. It's a disaster," Danny whimpered.
"Why aren't you down with the others in the lair?" Darla waved for him to come inside and closed the door.
"The Master has a visitor. It should have been a simple thing, with us just staying out of the way. I mean, the guy has no sense of humor, and he even used the line 'Take me to your master' when I found him in the tunnels," Danny tried to imitate the Count's accent.
"What? Was he a short fellow, purple, wears a cloak and medallion," Darla asked, her face paling several shades.
"Yes," Danny nodded. "He's called the Count."
Darla swore in Chinese. Running her hands through her hair, Darla blew out a puff of air. "The last I heard of him was in Charleston. There was a mathematician, and something about his work annoyed the Count greatly. What was supposed to have been, how did he put it, 'a harmless discussion of numbers' left the mathematician's assistant hiding in an insane asylum and the mathematician in a hundred boxes that had been made out of the mathematician's research notes. And now you're telling me that he's here, in Sunnydale?"
"He said he had medication for that now," Danny mumbled, collapsing into a chair. "But Paul stole the guy's pills and ate them."
"Paul stole the Count's medication? Someone had the Count on medication?" Darla blinked, and shook her head. "It's too early for this."
"Paul took the Count's thirty six little green pills. This is really bad. Now the Count's explaining to Paul why that's a bad thing, and he started by removing Paul's feet. I know he's using the toe-bones for dice now. I don't know what happened to the rest of his feet," Danny whimpered just from thinking about the nightmare.
"What am I supposed to do about this mess? Take him though the Kama Sutra and keep him busy?" Darla snapped.
"That'd distract me," Danny muttered, his eyes glazing over at the idea. "We're trying to find the medicine bottle. If there's a number for where the drugs came from, or a number of this Kermit person who's been keeping him medicated… Something. You're good at plans; we were hoping you could help."
"That's the plan, and for something that skimpy you come running up here through the sunlight?" Darla arched an eyebrow at him, leaning back in her own seat.
"Instead of staying in the lair with the Count? Yes. I felt safer dodging sunbeams," Danny replied.
"I think that I'd rather start my planning here instead of somewhere that the Count is annoyed," Darla decided. "I still haven't figured out if he can direct the lightning or just call it up when he counts things."
"Calling lightning?" Danny swallowed. "Here sounds better. Much better."
**********
"Count? What did you do to my minion?" the Master's voice was calm. "The rest of them are hiding like rats."
"I have been explaining the error of his ways," the Count waved one hand. "Did you know that there are fifty two bones in the feet?"
"What has that to do with my minions being afraid of you?" the Master folded his arms, and frowned. "How many of my minions have you maimed this time?"
"Paul's feet enabled him to take my thirty six little green pills. I have wery carefully removed them, one bone at a time. Nobody else vill be permitting their feet to make a similar mistake. As for the others, we tossed dice and bones together. They seem to be a quiet group," the Count shrugged. "Only one displayed a dreadful lack of manners, and he may recower. I know that he does not need to have a spleen to function. Perhaps he vill learn to be polite."
"You removed Paul's feet? There weren't any hacksaws laying about, do I want to know how you did that particular feat of dismemberment?" the Master was rubbing at his temple.
"I borrowed a scalpel. The removal took place one bone at a time, vith great precision," the Count rubbed his hands together and smiled. "If he is still unrepentant, I shall move on to werifying the number of bones in the legs."
"I thought you might wish to go out and about tonight," the Master paused, and then offered, "Sunnydale has quite a few cemeteries and churches. More than the usual numbers for a town this size."
"Perhaps that vould be nice. Do any of them have the gothic architectural style?" the Count looked upwards, as if contemplating the streets of Sunnydale.
"You would enjoy determining that yourself more than taking my word for such a thing. As I recall, you had an interest in architecture as well as numbers."
"Vithout the proper number and proportion, architecture is impossible. Improper angles and material strength can cause the buildings to collapse. It happened many times during the construction of the cathedral towers," the Count smiled, one hand raised to touch the medallion on his chest. "My own castle was built with good numbers, and it should stand for many, many years."
"I'll make sure a few of the minions go with you, to make certain you don't have any difficulties. There are some unfriendly demons about," the Master declared.
"Vonderful! And I shall count the churches and graveyards of this town. You are fortunate to dwell in such a fascinating place," the Count smiled.
End part 4.
