Housekeeping

I return!

Well, I promised I would see this through and I try to keep my word good. Thanks to a humongous writers block (seriously, you could carve a whole knew Sphinx from what I got) most of my work lingered untouched.

But I will complete this one!

If you're still tuning in, domo arigatou gozaimasu.

Warnings: pottymouthedness

Linchpin

Count D nursed the steaming mug in his hands with a wry smile. Coffee was never his first option of beverage, what with the array of fine teas and tisane in the Shop, but there were some mornings that called for it. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest choice for his nerves but this double shot of espresso was the only thing he could think of to keep him awake through the night. And what a long night it had been.

It had taken him hours to tend to the fallen detective and patch up his cuts and bruises. There was that worrisome gash to his nape that bled and bled and stubbornly resisted all attempts to staunch the flow. Eventually, it slowed to a sullen trickle and he had to keep watch over the bandages to make sure they didn't soak through.

From all indications, it seemed that Leon Orcot had barely survived a battle with a large and wild animal. That in itself was troubling, because the Count believed that they had the monopoly on all such dangerous creatures and none of his had inflicted those wounds. He took another sip and pulled a wan face. This was the second time that such mysterious circumstances have occurred and both times, the Detective was caught up in them. It was all becoming too much of a coincidence, the strange events surrounding this man. This human.

Unfortunately, he was in no condition to give an account of his latest experiences. Leon remained unconscious through the kami's ministrations, even until dawn broke and he exited the room. They would have to bide their time for answers.

Meanwhile, Count-D had a shop to run; there was no way he was going to drop everything just to nurse this one human. He drained the remaining contents of his mug and set it to the sink, turning around just as the troublesome quartet entered the room.

"He's still asleep, I checked on him just now," T-chan offered and he nodded slightly.

"What about Chris?"

"The kid is tuckered out too, finally went to sleep about an hour ago."

Despite their assurances, the boy had kept vigil at his brother's side, grasping on to his foot as though to constantly convince himself that he was real. Count-D thought back to the look of pure determination on that young face, practically willing the detective to stay.

"Still, what are the odds of that detective being Chris's big brother?"

The Kami looked up to Pon-chan with her words and shrugged mutely. What were the odds indeed, and that spirit garden they'd found his soul… He got to his feet and slowly rubbed his tingling arm.

"I will look in on the detective later. For now, I leave them both to your care."

The quartet shifted to let him pass, and silence filled the air in his wake. Of course, things had changed between them and it was safe to say that he was probably still angry at them. Still angry at us, the totesu mused as his eyes sought and found the nine-tails.

"So, what did you mean yesterday when you said you didn't kill a human?"

Ten-chan led his friend by the elbow, away from the other two.

"When Chris summoned me, it was some kind of creature that was attacking him."

"You've never seen it before," the ninetails queried and he shook his head before remembering a detail.

"He called it Macy."

Ten-chan's gaze sharpened at that. "It used to be human?"

The totetsu shrugged obliquely. "Maybe, or maybe it learned to blend in well with the humans. Like we did."

They both pondered that for a moment. Another high creature living hidden in plain sight… and somehow Chris never mentioned this. That didn't sit right. It needed looking into.

"You think we could -"

"The cops won't be all over it just yet," Ten-chan finished and they nodded, silently formulating a plan. A couple of hours was all they'd need - in and out, just to confirm this theory. They'd be back before lunch, the Count wouldn't even notice their absence. The kids could take watch, it's not like the humans were in any condition to be moving around anyway.

With that, they wheeled around to the girls, trademark smirks already in place as T-chan gestured to the door.

"We're gonna nip over to the bakery, get something nice for the Count, you two watch those two."

Ten-chan nodded in tandem. "Should I bring back your usual, Pon-chan?"

He watched her guileless blue eyes widen in joy with only the slightest twinge of guilt.

They'd never been to Chris's home and the totetsu couldn't even find the apartment in the daytime if he tried. It was a simple matter to shift to the astral planes, find that point in time and space, and then materialize back into the scene of the incident.

The foul mixture of spewed guts and offal and rotting flesh nearly bowled them over, and the ninetails threw a startled glance at his friend.

"What did you do, roll it in a cesspit?"

But T-chan's expression was similarly concerned. It smelled in there like the carcass had been left in a hot room for days, not hours. Nothing rots that quickly, nothing normal.

They had to cover their noses to approach the bloated form. It was definitely humanoid, a gnarled mass of too long limbs, stretched skin, and claws. But thanks to the decomposition, they couldn't really make much of the form.

"Like I said, not human."

Ten-chan nodded and pinched his nose. "Not human, but not any creature I've ever seen either. Looks like some kind of -" He stopped short and stepped even closer, frowning critically at the killing bow.

"Tetsu, you're sure you killed it dead."

T-chan scowled and huffed. "Couldn't be any more dead when I left it."

The ninetails pointed to the headless neck. "Then why is it still bleeding?"

They made haste leaving the apartment, knowing that in its current state, it wouldn't be long before the body was discovered. Barely two hours after their exit, the entire complex was crawling with police; residents at raised alarm at the horrible stench emanating from the apartment but everyone was stunned by what was found inside.

The responding officers may have been startled by how quickly SCD claimed jurisdiction over the case, but the handover came with little resistance. Workloads were already backed up and no one was really volunteering for unpaid overtime. Rumors were already swirling about the strange attack in their headquarters; if they wanted to deal with the weird shit, then fine.

Director Paulsen took one look at the final comments in the preliminary report and automatically reached for the special phone. Three rings later, he picked it up.

"This is Howell."

"I got something you need to see."

There was no preamble, no need for any more games.

"I presume that everything else is now in order?"

Paulsen stared across the room, to the glass planes that allowed him a birds eye view of his subordinates below. "Yes, everything is as you asked for."

"Provide me with the address and I shall meet you there shortly."

San Fransisco Police Departments, like most others in the country, and the world all over, daily have to contend with one dismal truth: there will always be more crimes to solve than solvers. The back burner was inevitable; an even more immediate and even more gruesome murder was always waiting in the ranks for every one the detectives attempted to tackle. However, this was not the case for Macy Gilliam; by high noon, less than 16 hours before her death, an entire cadre of elite police force was already investigating her murder.

Mr. Howell silently gestured to the Medical Examiner, whose scalpel was raised poised to cut, to begin. Even though the body was still enclosed in the bag, they were all kitted from head to toe in hazmat suits. The masks offered no protection from the stench that already hung in the open room like a cloud. The ME swallowed and unzipped the bag, stepping back with a sharp gasp from the visage that slowly revealed itself. He was a veteran of SCD cases and had seen his fair share of unusual cadavers. But this...

Howell stepped closer, perhaps to allay the poor man's fright. "Can you tell me what we have here?"

Director Paulsen stepped closer as well.

The ME cleared his throat. "Ah, I would have to conduct a more in depth examination but the subject seems to be a female, caucasian. From the distorted formation of her limb she was likely suffering from a severe form of scoliosis… possibly Marfan Syndrome?"

He gave the body another once over, taking in the waxy green tint to her skin the clawlike curve of her fingers and nails, and shook his head. "Based on the rate of decomposition, I would say she's been dead at least five days...that alone affects my initial assessment."

It seemed to be working; the more he studied the body in clinical terms, the straighter his spine stood. The squeak of shock left his voice, replaced by confidence and competence.

Howell nodded and stepped back. "I see, well I'm sure you will have enough to work with today. Please conduct every test and analysis within your experience. And when you have exhausted all those avenues, please feel free to indulge your imagination."

The ME turned to look at him and then at the Director, who nodded stiffly. At this time Howell turned around, to the other ten occupants of the examination room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I understand that many of you have been reassigned from your current caseloads with minimal explanations. Allow me to shed some light on that."

He took of his mask. "My name is Howell and I am borrowing the resources of the Director here to solve some cases that are high priority and highly classified. Everything that goes in these walls is of national security; to speak of it to anyone beyond these walls is treason. I'd like to remind you all that the penalty for treason is death."

He looked down as they all stiffened, the gravity of the situation finally settling even on Paulsen's shoulders.

"Forgive me for sounding so severe, but it is important that you understand just what we are getting into here." Howell gestured to the corpse behind him. "We will be investigating the murder of this young woman here: we don't know who she is but by the end of this day, we will know her entire story." He held them all in that stormy stare. "By the end of this day, there will be nothing about her hidden from us. You were all assigned here because you are the best this city has to offer; and as of today, you have been given access to every information database in this planet."

Several mouths fell open at that and Paulsen frowned. Just how far high up the food chain did this man really sit?

"All I ask, is that you work within the full scope of your experience. And when you have exhausted all possibilities in that realm, I challenge you to exhaust your imagination. I know this goes against the established protocol of the police department, but please indulge me." Howell looked at his watch. "Your work stations have already been prepared, we will reconvene in 10 hours." He inclined his head to the door in dismissal and they silently streamed out. No one spared another glance at the Director.

Eventually, they were the only two left, save for the ME.

Howell led for the door and Paulsen followed. They walked through the long corridor in silence, while he ruminated on the past hour. The Director had expected some sort of response when he handed over the prelim report but all Howell had done was glance through and thanked him. No iota of disbelief or diffidence; it was as though he'd expected something like this. A part of him refused to believe the bull shit the ME had made up in there; everything about that body was strange and weird. But they were at the point of no return, and this man was wasting no time leading them in.

They came to the end of the lobby and he shrugged. "I'll leave you to it then."

Howell nodded once. "Thank you for your cooperation. From here on out our job is to get to the end of this."

Paulsen chose to swallow his growing fear that this was only the beginning.

Howell watched him walk away; he pulled off the plastic protective gear and reached into his pocket for this cellphone. It took just one ring for his call to be answered.

"We have a lead."

By the time Count-D would complete all his tasks and emerge for Lunch, the duo were back in the Shop. He surveyed the baked good that filled the coffee table with a very neutral expression. This was no doubt Ten-Chan's idea, he mused, what with the sheer number of strawberry flavored treats purchased. They were trying to apologize but the gesture left him torn.

What they had done hurt him and they knew it, regardless of their justifications.

The Count had never tried to control their actions before but this all now made him wonder, perhaps he'd come to depend too much on them. His Grandfather took care of the Shop and still managed to maintain some distance from it all… perhaps this was why. He sighed and mentally shook his head. No, he couldn't imagine placing such a distance between himself and his friends. It would be better to just accept that had happened and try to come to some kind of understanding with them. He reached for a cookie with a grateful smile, even as the other four visibly wilted with relief.

"They are both still asleep," Pon-chan reported and he nodded.

"I assumed as much; we will need to rouse Chris soon, he must eat. I will attend to the detective."

Setting up for Lunch was easy with everybody pitching in, and Pon-chan set aside two sandwiches for the sleeping boy. They maintained a light banter through the exercise, and none of the other house mates could sense anything amiss between them.

Eventually he excused himself to see to the detective. They would have a long talk about all of this, but that was for the future. When it was all over.

Leon was in no worse shape than the Count had left him, he decided, taking in his still form. The detective's entire upper torso was covered in bandages. For someone who was usually so animated while conscious, the Kami decided that he prefered this version. Gone were the frown lines and scowl that marked his face, eased by sleep; now more than ever, the resemblance between the two Orcots became clear. It was easy to imagine that this man must have begun just like Chris. What sort of experiences did he have, to make him what he was now?

Count D began slowly unwrapping the bandages around the human's neck. One thing that had struck him was how many scars peppered the detective's were marks from old blows and beatings, knife scars, and even one distinctive seared wound that could only come from a bullet.

"What tumultous lives you humans live," he murmured, pursing his lips as the red patch staining each layer became wetter and larger. The coverings finally gave way and his frown deepened. The wound still hadn't closed up. He lightly touched the area around the angry red pucker with his finger; it was warm to the touch and tender. Perhaps there was something embedded in it.

Count- D exited the room and returned with a rolled up case of surgical instruments. After a quick glance to ensure that the patient was still unconscious, he gingerly explored the wound with a pair of forceps. The foray proved useless, there was nothing in there. The human was just having trouble healing. This was not surprising, considering how much physical and spiritual trauma he'd been through. He set the bloody instruments aside and bit his lip. Perhaps a poultice will help things along.

"Rosemary and ginger… definitely honey. Good thing Her majesty is around-"

Count-D stopped short and stared at the detective. Had he just caught movement? It happened again, a tiny twitch of his arm. He leaned closer with a hushed gasp as frowns swiftly appeared and disappeared on his brow. His hand jerked open, fingers reaching, seeking. Without thinking, the Kami reached out as well and grasped them. They slowly squeezed and he squeezed back. There was no way to know what the man was going through, or indeed where he was, but at least he knew he was not alone. The Kami looked at their joined hands for a long moment, and then slowly withdrew his.

It would be hard to continue to dislike this detective after all of this.

He distantly rubbed his arm, and then caught himself with a frown. Count-D hadn't been sure of what he was doing when he tried to resuscitate the detective, but there was no doubt that his intervention had resulting burn marks had healed but the surface of his skin now tingled and itched. He didn't know what to do about it and hoped it would go away on its own.

Later, while everyone else was enjoying siesta in their respective rooms, T-Chan surreptitiously knocked on the ninetails door. The latter opened and peered at him with a cheeky grin.

"You know, they're gonna start making up all sorts of rumors about you and I."

The totetsu rolled his eyes and elbowed him in. "Don't flatter yourself, dumbass, you are so not my type."

Ten-chan chuckled easily. "Bullshit, I'm everybody's type." But he sobered up as they huddled around his table. They had left the apartment as silently as they entered, but not before he'd palmed one item from the deceased. Her wallet. They sorted through it, looking for any kind of information to settle their questions.

He pulled out her id with a wry twist of the lip. "Macy Gilliam". Blond, perky, nice smile...not really his type. But how had she gone from this to what they met in the apartment? Was she born that way or, more troubling, made that way?

"I betcha the cop was banging her," T-chan chortled and he rolled his eyes.

"You…"

"What? You think she'd be watching the kid like she was without any fringe benefits?"

"Yeah well, consenting adults and all that."

Two bank cards and three credit cards, two shopping membership and one expired gym membership card later, he pulled out a curious looking card.

"Club Dante, maybe she worked there?"

The ninetails turned to T-chan, who was frowning at the piece of paper.

"Gimme that."

He brought it to his nose and took a long sniff, his face darkening afterward. "Blood, but not human, and some other scent."

Ten-chan was surprised by this, he hadn't caught any scents from the card. But then, totetsu was expert in all things bloody. He stood and the latter watched him putter about the apartment.

"What are you up to?"

"This," he replied, returning with a bottle spray and a flashlight. "Luminol and black light."

"I'm not even gonna ask why you have that," T-chan scoffed and he smiled.

"Dont ask, don't tell." He sprayed the card lightly and cast darkness in the apartment. Under the blacklight, what was hidden became evident. The faint mist of blood droplets on the card glowed with an oddly iridescent sheen.

"Definitely not human. You said it had a scent?"

The totetsu nodded and huffed to clear his nose. "Yeah, and it is strange. It was very faint when I sniffed it on the card, but now it's the only thing I can smell. It's like a frickin flare." He huffed again and shook his head. "Kinda like - "

"Pheromones," Ten-chan finished and he made a sound of assent.

He turned the light back on and they both stared at the innocent looking piece of paper.

An unnatural death, and an inhuman club. Just what had these humans gotten themselves mixed up with?

"A bloody card with scent markers," totetsu murmured."Well, there's an address on it. Wanna check out this Club Dante?"

In the darkened room above the club, the two lovers held each other close. Kona comforted his mate the best he could, soothing the latter's burning skin with pack after pack of cold compress. But Zai's fever was so high that they began evaporating on contact within minutes. He watched worriedly as another spasm rocked through the smaller man, and pressed a kiss to his clammy brow.

If only there was a way he could bear this burden instead.

"You need sustenance, my love," He raised a mug to Zai's lips and the latter grudgingly accepted, taking a small sip of its dark contents.

"This is your fault, you know."

Kona nodded as he changed yet another compress. "It is, forgive me. We are late and I know I promised you… something went wrong with the piping and they are working all day and night to fix it. We are making everything just right and perfect; so buy me a little more time."

"I don't know if I can," Zai gurgled thickly and he grasped his hands, falling to his knees like a supplicant.

"My heart, my own. I need you to be strong… not yet, it is not ready, we are not ready."

The next spasms vibrated through the leather couch and the floor, sending the walls rattling.

"T-three days … that is all I can give," Zai whispered, grasping tightly at his mate. Kona sighed and held him close.

"Three days, I will make it work. We will be ready. Thank you, my love … my Queen."

Poor Leon