A/N: Happy for all the R&R~! Warnings for pedophiliac undertones from a creepy pharmacist, gore, and cannibalism. Yes, cannibalism.
Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you
Norbert Keene had stopped paying attention to the soundtrack that stroked across his pharmacy from every speaker sometime before lunch. Now, as he set about restocking, the familiar strum of a song from his childhood listed lazily in his brain. Keene absently sung along with the lyrics that teetered in and out of his consciousness, whilst shelving an entire stock of Anacin within the far reaches of its respective shelf.
The anger over being left alone once again, when his daughter had promised him otherwise, had fell to the pit of the pharmacist's stomach as Elvis Presley crooned within Greta had been meant to stay after and help him, but she'd skipped out on the deal from right under her father's nose to go out with her friends. To date, this marked the fifth time she'd done it and gotten away with it, and though Mr. Keene's ire over her disrespect had lulled, he still had the mind to wait while it boiled inside. He'd be working late once more because of her, and Keene had the mind to return home and scream about it to his wife.
Fat lot of good that that would do, however. Mr. Keene snorted quietly as the strings of a guitar followed the image of Mrs. Keene, arms up like she had something to fear outside of her husband's shouting. She was a frail, thin and curve-less woman, his wife, with no imagination nor daring spark within her. Always mumbling her words and giving him lifeless, limp smiles across their quiet dining room table – it was a wondrous miracle that their only child had a backbone at all.
The pharmacist counted that in Greta's favor, imagining the proud toss of her frizzy blonde hair and she glared up at him with eyes framed by black mascara. Her mother had tried to talk Greta out of wearing makeup, at least until she was a junior or senior in high school. Norbert had had no qualms about it however. Their daughter was very beautiful, why not flaunt it?
Although, Keene had to admit that he hoped his daughter wasn't a slut, at the same time. What kind of a father would he be to let that happen?
"Mister! Hey Mister!"
The pharmacist's head snapped up automatically, face already contorted over the thought that it was after hours. And Norbert hadn't heard the bell above the pharmacy door chime, not that he should've after locking up for the night.
They'd had their fill on left-overs that morning and afternoon, but Beverly had convinced Pennywise to let her make a try for it. Hunting on her own, that is.
Beverly was the most audacious of his children, that was a certainty. She waggled her fingers in Mr. Keene's direction, smiling innocently and witnessed the middle-aged man smiling back promptly. His brows rose slightly, but it was the flash in his eyes and the quick dart of his irises down from her open face to her chest and her legs were something curious that she recognized. Another kind of predator was in the girl's midst, that sent her stomach rolling her teeth on edge just behind the painful smirk she kept up.
She'd decided to go after a full-grown adult this time, with minor conditions such as waiting for whatever fool she picked to be alone, and that she not go out on her own unsupervised. Beverly had whined over her Pen's decision to include a few of the boys in their hunting party, Ben and Bill, but she'd acquiesced after some time.
If neither of her brothers hinder her plans, then Beverly could handle it.
If Pennywise adhered to her rule, that he stayed out of sight and let her do this on her own, then Beverly could handle it.
Or so she'd thought, before she realized just what her target was.
Ben plucked another few cards from one of the shelves in the pharmacy and sifted through them. He was fond of the glittery ones, and liked to rub away the sequins on the gaudier monstrosities to flick at his brother Bill while they remained quiet and tucked away. He wished he could see Beverly in action, but both he and his brother were only backup at this stage in her act. And Ben was the last one to provoke their father for the hell of it.
Bill shushed him before leaning into the shelf full of cards, looking silly as he tried to climb up and listen to what was going on. The slightly older boy took some things much too seriously, in Ben's opinion.
"Hello there." Mr. Keene said from a little far off, polite and a little smarmy.
Before him, Beverly swayed forward and then back, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her mostly-clean dress. She continued to smile pleasantly, as Mr. Keene was already standing to his full height and advancing.
"I'm sorry, dear. I thought I'd locked the front door." He laughed. "I'm afraid we're close for the night."
The man swept a hand through his blonde hair almost bashfully, taking in the little girl all by her lonesome. She was a pretty little thing, thin and nimble, with the sweetest blue eyes he'd ever seen. In them was a slight flutter of nervousness, an innocence that had Mr. Keene biting his lower lip. He wondered where her parents were, noting that she couldn't have been any older than Greta was.
"But… my friend…" Beverly worked to get the words out, nerve running thin as the much taller, much older man slid forward against the slick tiles below them. Language was failing her just as quickly, turning her skin into a clammy patchwork stretched over her muscles and bones. It was all because of that Look that Mr. Keene was plying her with, because of the advance of his grasshopper long legs, pitched against the whitewash of his sterile pharmacist coat.
She'd practiced. Beverly had practiced what she was going to say beforehand but now found her mouth falling open, words lost in the swimming haze settling over her brain. Her mind flailed as Mr. Keene stopped in front of her, kneeling to get a better look at her reddening face.
"Your friend what?" His mouth moved over the words, making them sound lewd. He was leering at her now, so close that she could feel his sour breath prickling her skin. But it was the shape of his brow, wrinkling as his gaze became scrutinizing, that set her heart racing.
"You know something, sweetheart?" Mr. Keene said, inflection rising. "You look a bit familiar…"
"Mm… My… My friend…" She tried again, but started sweating. The palm of the man's hand was laid flat against her cheek, and Mr. Keene turned her from side to side.
"I've never seen you at Greta's school before, though… What's your name?" He asked dully, not entirely focused on getting an answer.
Mr. Keene's mind was working overtime, torn between remembering why this girl looked so familiar and feeling a rush of pleasure at the power he had over her. She was trembling like a leaf beneath him, pretty eyes wide and frightened, and Norbert found it… quite nice.
"Wait…" Light touched beneath the thick spectacles against Mr. Keene's face. "I have seen you… I've seen your face at the DPD Station –"
Beverly whimpered. Keene's fingers tightened around her jaw.
Bill had reached the top of the shelf, and stared the scene before him in horror. "B-Beverly!"
Keene's head whipped up at the sound, and he spied the boy who'd cried out, just before Bill fell from his perch. "There's more of you?!"
Beverly panicked, ripping out of Mr. Keene's grasp.
She fell back onto the tiled floor, expression momentarily slacking into surprise and an idle ghost of fear. As fast as wildfire came the recognizable bass of a rumble, one which the girl felt coming from beneath the very ground as though it were about to split so that a volcano might rise from the center of the earth. It wasn't a warning for Beverly so much as it was one part soothing another encouraging. She took strength from the concern, the rage, the fealty behind the sound – one which she wasn't entirely sure was audible to human ears – and kicked hard at the glossy tiles beneath her.
Mr. Keene landed on hard on his knees, falling short of landing on the young girl both literally and figuratively. He groaned upon impact, though it wasn't enough for him to break a bone nor split his knee. The man recovered in record time and was already lashing out, grabbing hold of the little girl's ankle with one hand and looking up with a victorious grin.
"Hold on a second, kid! I remember you now! I –"
The grin died as soon as Norbert Keene realized that he wasn't the only one holding onto the redheaded girl. There was another, something enormous and pale and gauzy in fabrics too old for this century – a clown.
Said clown grinned at him, but the smile was humorless. It wrapped tight around the lower half of the clown's skull, so tightly that it looked as if at any moment that unnaturally pale face could tear in half and reveal the intricacies of its jaw in gruesome detail.
It was too big, too taut, and too cold – a grin that was spoke of eminent danger before Mr. Keene could categorize it in any way that made sense. Before his eyes, the clown had Beverly snug against him, one snake-like arm swathed around her and unreal black claws digging through her copper hair.
The clown pressed her against his shoulder calmly, stroking her hair as though comforting a baby from a nightmare, while his other arm lunged with merciless speed. Mr. Keene's offending hand was yanked off Beverly's ankle and briefly enclosed in those bizarre, dark claws. Finally, the man did scream, hysterically so, as the clown crushed his hand slowly until the bones beneath were but brittle and dust.
Pennywise played like it was nothing while Mr. Keene continued to scream and wail, his blubbering like that of a dying animal. Instead, the alien took to rolling Beverly's head back gently, gazing as she refused to look at him.
"Mouse." Pennywise murmured. "Don't be afRaID to look at me."
The florescent light from above bounced off her blue eyes, shining up at him in apology. "'M sorry, Pen."
Pennywise cooed at her broken words, a pang shooting through his being at her shame. "No, no. No reason to be sorry, my sweet. You did very well!"
As he spoke, Pennywise pulled the screaming pharmacist forward until the man's blonde hair touched the clown's knee. Pennywise caressed the back of Beverly's curls, tilting her closer to press a kiss to her forehead, before setting his sights back on the irritating human.
"It's loud." Beverly quipped after a moment, nerve returning as she looked beyond the safety of her father's frills and bells.
"YEs. VeRy." Pennywise harrumphed. He looked at the girl sideways. "He SHouLD SHuT Up!"
Beverly giggled, bouncing on the clown's knee before she nodded at Mr. Keene and they watched his head pull against gravity's hold. His neck was craned back to an unnatural angle, before the man was slammed face first into the floor several times over. The pair kept giggling at their own private circus, as Mr. Keene fell limp and bleeding into the cracks he'd made.
It might've been more practical to use the ordinary front door of the caravan – to wipe their shoes on the mat before heading inside the strangely roomy cart first – but Pennywise was not known for turning down a dramatic entrance. He'd let the stage of the side cart slam down upon their arrival, and had watched Beverly, Ben, and Bill pile in first. Those awaiting them, namely Mike, Stan, Richie, Eddie, and little Georgie, had sprung from their restless pacing to greet them, as lively as was to be expected.
"Pop! Pop! Pop!" Georgie squealed, skipping around the caravan with delight. He gravitated toward Bill, as Pennywise was still shuffling inside behind the other children with Mr. Keene's body slumped over his shoulder. The body was dumped to the carpeted floor, where it thudded as heavily as an anvil upon concrete.
Pennywise bowed low to the bedraggled eight, head tipping to one side like a showman's as his lips stripped back and exposed a delicate grin.
How nice, it came with its own little death null. The clown thought.
"Thank your sister, children. It was Beverly who chose this one."
A chorus of soft, hoarse voices followed the thud, the sound of Pennywise's cobbled voice, as the children gathered on hands and knees to peer at the corpse laid before them. "Thank you, Beverly!"
Georgie butted his head very lightly against Beverly's shoulder, nuzzling into her tousled hair when she lay down on her belly to hide the beet-red rising in her cheeks. "Bevvie!"
It was an adorable sight, one that made Pennywise's form stutter and the saliva pooling in his mouth less consistent as he admired his two children. The normal order of things was always chaotic, but these little instants when the children were gracious and gentle with one another were blessings in disguise.
Then, Pennywise cleared his throat. Back to business. Already, his brood were clamoring for food, so close to the freshly killed pharmacist that there was little room for the clown to hunker down with them in their circle.
By degrees, they were behaving well, knowing to wait for when their Pen affirmed that they could begin eating.
Pennywise's children had blunt teeth, to be sure, but Georgie only had his baby teeth to contend with. He had trouble sinking deeply into the flesh all by himself, until Pennywise leaned in close, earning the gaze of his youngest. The baby always ate first, therefore he had to be there first, when Pennywise cracked out a set of large incisors and dug them into Mr. Keene's clothed shoulder.
The alien inclined his head in Georgie's direction, making sure that his youngest was watching with rapt attention. Then, Pennywise effortlessly dragged his fangs through the man's skin and muscle, dissecting him from shoulder to elbow. It was easy for the clown to slice into Keene's flesh and muscle, even through the coat, as it would be for a knife to go through wet paper, and yet Pennywise had much more precision. The wound gaped slowly, paring open like the flaps of a cardboard box, with blood slavering out like wine from an overflowing cup, deeply red against the crisp white clothes and the damp, dark field below the limb.
Georgie canted forward, but Bill was beside him in an instant, keeping the smaller boy from rushing forward too quickly to lick up the blood leaking out onto the grass. Bill gestured with a free arm, lifting an index finger to signal for Georgie to wait another moment before racing ahead.
Bone, white as snow amid the dark red, peach, and pus yellow emerged from inside, entangled in sinew and veins that crawled it like ivy. Pennywise sought the ligament connecting the humerus bone to its ulna and radius and, with his progeny watching, snapped them apart with two skilled fingers.
Georgie shrieked with laughter at the great POP! that came from Pennywise's act, and he clapped as if the clown had performed some great feat of magic. Bill beamed, unable to stop himself from grinning with red-stained teeth as Pennywise nodded in affirmation. The rest of the children milled up to the body and began to paw around the rest of it, tearing at the pharmacist's coat, undershirt, and khaki pants. All while both Georgie and Bill were swept up onto Pennywise's lap and given special leeway to devour Keene's newly-sliced arm.
The cosmic horror kept his enormous hands around Georgie's midsection, to brace him as Georgie leaned on his elbows and slurped from the divot that Penny had made.
Pennywise wondered, in the meantime between the children feeding and he, himself getting the chance, how he'd survived so long without Georgie's laughter and excitement during meals. How many centuries has Pennywise engorged itself all alone, without the contented sounds of its happy children doing the same?
Far too many.
"Georgie." Pennywise sing-songed lightly. The alien reached around the boy's torso to wipe Georgie's blood-splattered face, and fell victim to the boy's little teeth gnawing into his elegant white fingers. It was clumsy, a bite that hardly hurt, and yet the clown sucked in a breath like he'd been truly wounded. And like clockwork, the baby of his brood smiled broadly at being the cause of an injury.
The enthusiasm that the child radiated was positively contagious, and Pen tried to school in his giggling over it by surveying the rest of his children. They'd taken their cue to go ahead and start munching after Georgie, and Pennywise's perceptive golden gaze took them in one by one.
Ben was suffering the same messy appearance, but a quick, pointed look from Pennywise reminded the pudgier boy to rub his face against the dew grass after every bite. Bill had taken to neatly ripping off the detached left hand and sat cross-legged beside their father, biting around the bone like one might eat around the core of an apple. Beverly's back was turned on Pennywise as she dug in, over Georgie's wispy head.
Nothing was out of the ordinary there, not until Pennywise had to start; the sound of watery gurgling and a few dry heaves began within earshot. It was a known sound, and yet that didn't keep the clown's expression from twitching to an anxious and deep frown. The clown's torso stretched and twisted, into a pose that might've been uncomfortable for a regular skeletal system. He located the source instantly, and was snatching up Stanley's chin reflexively with an angry hum of disapproval. Roughly, Pennywise swiped at the blood and meat that oozed down the curly-haired boy's lips while glaring.
"CHeW!" Pennywise's voice crawled from his made-up vocal chords like claws scraping a paved road. "A Nd wHaT HAvE I ToLD yoU? SmaLleR pieCes, S-s-STANley!"
The boy's locks bounced around his ears as he averted his gaze and slowed the ravenous quaffing he'd done. Richie and he had managed to open the pharmacist's chest and they'd gotten, quite unsurprisingly, carried away while breaking the dead man's ribcage themselves. Stan had decided to crawl around with a sizeable portion of lung and had tried to hide it so that no one else could have any, but of course that plan had backfired.
An inhuman snarl rose from Pennywise's diaphragm, directed at Stanley and then the rest of them, whom the monster had had his back turned for a mere moment. No one knew how mischievous these children could become if you looked away for a mere second as well as their father did. This was especially true during mealtimes, when both Mike and Bill were supposed to feeding like the rest of them.
Eddie scrubbed around his mouth too hard, enough to chafe the skin around his frail lips, and Mike was playing with his separable pieces of meat more than eating them. Beverly wouldn't even look at him anymore. The mood had soured then, as Stan slowly passed beneath one of Pennywise's arms and returned to the group, mulling and moping while he did.
Pennywise sighed and stood apart from them, the fizzle of its irritation over their lack of manners beginning to flatten and die. He drummed his gloved fingers against the trailer wall while his brood continued to eat, though less enthusiastically. It was Pennywise's hunger that did this to him, for the monster was not nearly so prone to screeching at any of his children otherwise. He bemoaned the fact, displeasure pulsating from his being like the steady burn of the Dead-Lights themselves, before a bloody hand interrupted his view.
Pennywise swallowed back spit, the glitch in his consciousness piecing back together into one, absorbent whole. Before him was Beverly, teeth-gnashing in his direction before she held out her other hand and presented Pennywise with Mr. Keene's heart. Blood leaked from its pumps and valves, sloshing onto the dull ash-colored floor just beyond the sidecar's flooring, and
Beverly quirked a smile at him, hopeful face dappled rather prettily with freckles and blood, and her father wondered if she was gifting him with food just to snatch it away when he was at his most vulnerable.
The alien didn't hide his thoughts from the girl, and when her smile widened to reveal her shining teeth, she reminded Pennywise so much of himself in that moment that the clown couldn't help but feel profoundly touched.
Bev shook her head and looked at him like he was too silly for words, with marvelous eyes full of mirth. When Pennywise took the heart from her hand, she gave it up without a fuss as though her good-natured scheming wasn't a big deal. Pennywise pulled her forward with the offering and hugged her to him as he eyed the pharmacist's heart, still dripping over Penny's lily-white gloves.
The clown stopped before taking a bite.
You're all going to need baths after this.
Pennywise said, without moving Its lips.
He grinned gaily, taking a mighty chomp out of the broken organ in his claws.
A crescendo of groans and objections followed the snap of Pennywise's fangs through the meat.
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be...