Chapter 3: Snake Eyes
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As soon as they finished unpacking, Tsuzuki flopped down face-first onto the cushy single-sized mattress.
"M'bushed." He said in passable English. Hisoka sighed, flopping down onto his own bed. After two drops of some foul-tasting plant extract the Count of the Hall of Candles had given them, the young Shinigami found himself mildly surprised that he was speaking and understanding a completely different language.
About one drop was equivalent to twelve hours and they had taken it just before Tsuzuki called a cab to the hotel.
The jet lag was going to be hell.
"Hey Tsuzuki," Hisoka said, fighting the urge to take a nap.
"Nngh...?" Tsuzuki was giving into sleep already.
"Never mind." The younger Shinigami said grumpily and rolled onto his side, also giving into the sweet temptation of sleep.
"Nnghay."
---
Hisoka was the first to wake up from his nap and he checked the electric clock on the bedside table.
7:56 PM blinked back at him all bright red. The setting sun cast an orange glow around the hotel room, and Hisoka headed for the sliding glass doors. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.
Pushing them open as quietly as he could, Hisoka squeezed out through the crack and onto the balcony. The Balcony wasn't much, just concrete and a rusting iron rail that had once been painted white. The paint was chipping and stained orange and brown, and when Hisoka rested his hands on it, more of it flaked off and fluttered down into the busy street below. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.
He stared out over the skyline and sighed, taking in the city noises, catching snatches of conversation he shouldn't have been able to understand. He looked at the sky instead. And the sky looked like it was on fire.
He wasn't going to dare think about Muraki.
It was probably just the pollution from the city that made it look so orange, like it had been painted by an enthusiastic amateur. Orange sky, purple clouds, and big ball of yellow right on the horizon. At least the rain had let up which was nice. But it left the air muggy and the sun made it hot. He wasn't going to think about Muraki.
He turned to go back inside, because he didn't take well to heat, and he especially didn't take well to heat and humidity. He had turned too quickly though, because he couldn't stop himself from walking right into the man behind him.
Tsuzuki looked down, mildly surprised as Hisoka made contact. He was about to say something, maybe apologize, but he felt something damp soaking through his shirt and Hisoka was just standing there, head pressed against the taller Shinigami's ribcage.
It must have been the jet lag making him feel a little moody, Hisoka reassured himself, just the lack of sleep, too much work. Because he wasn't thinking about Muraki and how much he hated the color red.
---
Sakon set his suitcase down as he stepped into his small flat. It was nothing spectacular, but it was sanitary. Sparse would best describe it, in fact. No furniture, though there were a few boxes of necessities from home (mostly just puppets he looked after). A kitchen connected to a small living room and a small corridor with the bathroom on the right, a closet to the left, and the door to his bedroom at the end.
But it was his. Not something he had inherited from bygone relatives, but something he had worked for and earned with his own effort. Sliding Ukon's box off his back, he rested it by the suitcase, and then his traveling coat followed suite.
He'd eat out tonight, and go shopping tomorrow. Kaoruko had given him quite a bit of money, so he considered getting some furniture and lamps from a second hand store. That would mean he'd have to hire a vehicle...
As he added up the estimated costs, he checked the sink and the refrigerator, and found the hot water and electricity to be working. The refrigerator made creaky noises and the sink dripped, but things worked. The living room had a musty old carpet that smelled of dust. It probably had been white once but now it had turned gray with age. Still, it had been vacuumed and it was still squishy. Pleased, he sat down on it, leaned forward to pull Ukon's box to him and removed the redhaired puppet.
"We're home."
---
"It looks like the rain stopped," D said peeking out the door. "It's muggy though. Would you like to stay 'till dark when the air outside cools down a bit?" He turned to look at Leon, but the detective was already at the bottom of the stairs.
"I hate humidity," he grumped.
The shop was decidedly cooler than outside, and Leon was damn sure to take advantage of it since the clunky old air conditioner at his flat was a little more than run-down.
"You know, I read up on Manticores." Leon said idly.
D raised a brow. "Oh really? Well, I suppose you'd have to learn to read to graduate police academy but till now I've had my doubts."
"Oh that was all kinds of funny." Leon scowled, making himself at home on the couch. "All the descriptions I read though didn't really suit the one I gave a lift here. They're supposed to be red and have bat wings and just the head of a human not the torso."
D arched a brow at him, setting down a porcelain cup with iced chai and a bit of lemon. He'd been in the mood for Indian delicacies lately. "I'm impressed. Yes, Manticores are generally as you described them. That one that you brought looked to be a mixed breed. Judging by the yellow and brown colouring, I'd say a Manticore crossed with a Sphinx."
Leon considered this, tapping his chin lightly. "Like in Oedipus?"
"Not only is he literate, he's read a classic," D exclaimed in genuine surprise.
Or just the footnotes, Leon thought, but decided not to mention it.
"Sphinxes and Manticores share a common ancestor. It's not surprising they can breed together. And considering that both species are dying out, I wouldn't be surprised if their mixing blood to make a more hearty and adaptable animal to live on. Save two birds with one egg so one might say."
"So a creature more hearty-"
"-And more intelligent. Manticores are cunning, but Sphinxes are wise beyond measure. Both species have long-lived civilizations and empires affiliated with them. India, Greece, Egypt, England."
"Okay, so a Manticore that's more hearty and smarter than your average Manticore is running loose around L.A.?"
"That's about the size of it."
"On top of a serial killer..." Leon groaned.
Count D sat down across from Leon with great dignity. "As you are probably aware, Manticores are ferocious predators, but they are not serial killers. If this creature goes after people, you will have a hard time tracking it down. There will be no pattern to who it kills, or where they are killed. Manticore territories are expansive, far larger than a city. That creature can fly, but it is at home underground as it is in the air. It will leave no evidence. You will find no bodies, because Manticores devour their victims wholly and completely."
"So what do you suggest?" Leon asked, brow knitting. "How do we stop it?"
'We'...? D thought, mildly surprised.
"It is looking for something I am supposed to have. An egg of Manjula, though I don't know any Manjula. I daresay it will return here."
Leon sighed. "Leave it in your hands, huh?"
"You have much worse monsters to deal with than a hungry animal far from home."
Leon took a moment to think that over. Just an animal, far from home. He took a gulp of his tea, wondering if the creature even knew better. Could you try a Manticore for murder? Or would it be caged and put down? He doubted if he'd find anything on the rights of Manticores in any law document.
Wise beyond measure... he turned that over and over in his head. The animal was obviously sentient, maybe more-so than a human. A dying race... he thought, taking a drought of the iced chai. ...And all they have between them and mankind is D.
He looked at D's face that betrayed no age. Not a line, not a crease. Flawless, ageless. But Leon looked closer and thought for just a second, He looks so very, very old.
But his thoughts couldn't linger on this observation. The scream from outside sent Leon bolting back up the stairs, trailed by a puzzled D.
---
Jill treaded the cracked sidewalk in Chinatown with a fair bit of trepidation. The fog after the rain caused the city to glow orange in the evening light, but that's not what worried her. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it made her wish she was wearing something more practical than a short skirt and heels.
She gripped the handle of her briefcase a little tighter, her eyes darting back and forth. It seemed so... empty. Usually Chinatown was bustling at any given area. Especially around here, since that Count D had so many friends.
But the streets were deserted. Could this really be the same place? She had visited Count D before, usually to drag Leon back during his lunch break, and the area was bustling. This quiet was unnerving. But Leon would need these files, not to mention they would be hosting an intern in a few days. He'd probably forgotten about it.
She picked up her pace a little, but she couldn't shake the feeling something was watching her.
---
She was being watched.
A man in the shadows of an ally pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and smiled.
"She's suitable." He said, scratching his new favourite killing machine behind the ears. It's scorpion-like tail only twitched a little. "Not for you," he said to the beast.
"For me."
---
There was D's shop, right up ahead and... well the street wasn't so deserted. A man in a white trench coat was busying with the opened hood of his car. A trail of smoke was coming out of his engine and he looked sincerely distressed.
Jill cast a hopeless glance at the entrance to D's shop. Well, she was right nearby. It couldn't hurt to be a good cop.
"'Scuse me!" She called, crossing the street to the man. He looked up, his one visible gray eye wide as if she had alarmed him, though his face relaxed into a smile. "Sorry," she said hastily. "Just wondering if you're alright."
"Fine," he said a little breathlessly. "Just not the best place for a Bently to break down and my cell phone's batteries to die on me."
Jill rolled her eyes, and reached into her pocket for a cell phone. While the place wasn't the poshest part of Chinatown, the crime rate was pretty low. But to wealthy looking sods like this, anything without a white picket fence was-
She paused, looking the man over. Gray hair, white coat, wealthy...
...Shitshitshitshitshit... she thought, carefully loosening her gun in case she'd need it.
"Oh I don't think so my dear," he purred with a voice like poison. And then something struck her from behind. She had enough time to turn to see what it was; Gregory Miles stared back at her with horrible blue eyes, slit down the middle like a cat's. She had enough time to scream before she was out cold and dragged away.
---
"Blood," Leon said frantically, head darting to and fro. Count D was staring straight ahead at the alleyway where the red trail was leading.
But then the blood began to lift itself from the pavement, red droplets floating up around them, orbiting them, before converging into a ball in the air... and dispersing into nothing.
Leon was already hurrying down the alleyway, though D lingered staring at where the blood had disappeared.
"A blood rite..." he whispered hoarsely. "...he can't be planning...?" And he took off after Leon.
---
"Jill! Oh god, Jill, talk to me!"
Leon lifted his limp partner upright. This was wrong, all wrong. It couldn't be Jill. Jill wasn't that pale, that lifeless.
He fumbled for his phone, and dialed an ambulance, beads of sweat rolling down his face.
"Yeah, I need an ambulance here. I have an officer down. Repeat, an officer down!" He gave them the address as he was advised not to move the body.
Too late, he thought. It's too late...
---
Help me...
Sakon bolted upright from the makeshift futon in his bedroom, though settled a little when all he was met with was the dark silence. He could hear the city outside, and a half-moon cast a pale glow through his window, along with the oranges, reds and yellows from the flickering neon signs outside. But these noises and lights only seemed to amplify the dark silence, and for the first time Sakon felt horribly, terribly alone.
"Ukon?" He breathed softly, the fine dark hairs on the back of his neck bristling. He was trembling, his heart pounding in his chest like a baby birds, and goose pimples all up his arms and legs. For the first time Ukon didn't answer.
He chanced a glance at the old stainless steel alarm clock ticking away softly to itself and froze. His eyes traveled up the length of the thing in front of him, covered in blood and impaled with various medical instruments. Under the torn clothing he could see the body had been horribly mutilated, covered in claw marks. There was no face though. Just a bare, bloody skull, it's empty sockets staring down at him.
He gave a sharp intake of breath and scrambled to his feet, backing towards the light switch.
In a blink of an eye and the florescent overheads, the thing had gone. But in it's place there was writing all over the walls, red, wet and horrible.
I CAN SEE YOU. CAN YOU SEE ME?
Sakon winced, looking away as his knees gave out under him and he fell to the carpeted floor.
When he looked up, the writing had gone.
---
Twyla Elliot was a whole eleven years old today, and she got stuck with her little brother and his running nose. Lyle was four and a half, which meant he was old enough to talk but not quite old enough to talk about anything interesting. Twyla didn't particularly like her brother, but they ended up going everywhere together.
And now they were in the woods surrounding the south end of the old suburb. Most of the area was still underdeveloped, which made it ideal for Twyla. She was eleven years old and already a vegetarian (except for fish because they weren't cute and fuzzy). She had picked up her first copy of 'Teen Witch', painted her nails black, re-christened her lazy fat tabby George to 'Unicorn Star', and bought a proper silver pentacle with jewels at each point in the colour of the five elements (though she'd be disappointed to find that the piece that had cost her two weeks allowance was made of a cheep alloy and the gems were plastic). And she never missed an episode of Charmed. She was on her way to becoming a real-life Wiccan that could do real-life Magick!
Now, Twyla wasn't a sensible child, but she was intelligent and observant. She had seen at a young age that there was a lot wrong with the world, and truly there were farworse things a child can be doing about itthan laying off hamburgers and running around outside in the woods and getting properly filthy as a means of 'Communing with the earth spirits'.
She didn't know you didn't need pewter jewelry, black nail polish, and misspelled words to do that.
But at the moment, she was in high spirits as she bent to tie her canvas sneakers. She was a plain girl who felt a little out of place because she didn't look like the mysteriously glamorous smiling girls on the cover of her book with their flowing golden locks, or shimmering ebony tresses. She had short brown hair that stuck up funny when the wind caught her from behind and braces on her teeth. And freckles. Lots, and lots of freckles.
The Coven would be assembling today and three o-clock. That's how Eliza Garrison always wrote the e-mails, and usually only two or three girls got them in time to make the meeting. One or two others might trickle in a little later, but it was usually only Eliza, Twyla, Lyle, and a seventh-grader named Nancy.
The coven met under the 'White Tree', an old birch with moss growing up it. Eliza liked the tree because it was mysterious and old. Twyla liked it because she could get a great view of the whole wooded area by climbing to the top. Lyle liked it because he was convinced it was a gummy bear tree.
"Now Lyle, I'm going to go up there and pick some gummy bears for you. But you mustn't tell mom or dad or especially Eliza that I go up in that tree or all the gummy bears will shrivel up and die." And she'd climb up to the top and throw the gummy bears she had stashed in her pockets down.
It had worked. Lyle called it the 'magic tree', which pleased Eliza to the point she had complimented him, and allowed him to come to meetings.
"He has potential." She'd said with all the airs and graces she thought a Coven leader should possess. So Twyla could babysit her brother without being ridiculed and Twyla's over-protective parents never knew she climbed a fifty-foot tree every saturday.
That afternoon the meeting had started at as usual with Eliza lighting candles on the five rocks they had rolled to the meeting point, and drew a pentacle in the dirt with the polished hardwood stick adorned with a polished piece of quartz and lots of feathers. Twyla thought, if you look closely, they're hot-glued on. Eliza called it her wand and she got it for a whole fifty dollars so it had to be full of mysterious magic.
The wood is old, thought Twyla, old and dead. Far from it's birthplace, it's too scared to do anything. And the feathers are just for show. From a male turkey's tail no doubt. Real power is in the pinions, but you take those and a bird can never fly again. And quartz is as rare as dirt, and not half as powerful. Dirt is full of nutrients that brings life. That's not a wand. It's just a pretty, expensive toy held together cheaply.
She dismissed these thoughts. Nancy, Eliza, Twyla and Lyle had an important job to do. To gather herbs to make a love potion so all the cute boys at school would fall in love with them. They had split up, treading deep into the woods. Twyla knew you didn't get any herbs in the forest. The ground was covered in rotting leaves which were full of toxins and acids delicate plants like most of the herbs mentioned couldn't withstand. Not to mention there was hardly enough sunlight and some weren't even in season yet.
Honestly, just open a book on botany. She thought ruefully, helping Lyle untangle himself from a pricker bush. Still, I get a nice hike out of it and maybe I'll get lucky.
She heard the snap of a twig somewhere to her side, and jumped out of her reverie. "Nancy?" She called. No answer. Must have been a squirrel.
Freeing Lyle, she tugged him along when she heard the snap of another twig, this time closer.
She whirled around, feeling in the pit of her stomach that the noise hadn't come from any small woodland creature or Nancy, or Eliza.
"You aren't funny, either of you!" she cried to empty air, her heart drumming in her ears.
"I am not here to be funny, two-legged nest-ling." A woman's voice hissed from behind. "Though another will be along shortly."
Twyla turned slowly, and her eyes locked on the creature. She didn't scream, though a hushed gasp of surprise and horror escaped her. The creature... it was all yellow like a lion only a person only a bird only a scorpion, all mixed up like she was made of leftover parts of different creatures all smoothly put together.
"Your companions will have bought you time. He likes to take his time with children. But you are the sixth rite, and though not matured your are woman enough to be satisfactory for the completion of it."
"I don't understand," Twyla squeaked hoarsely, hugging Lyle tight. "What are you talking about?"
"There is little time. We must fly."
"I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE BUT HOME!"
"He will ensure that his quarry have no home to return to." The creature stared down at her with round, horrible blue eyes. But there was something else... pity? Sadness? "We must fly," the creature repeated though more gently, but there was an urgency in her voice. "I cannot fight him alone."
Twyla looked at the offered hand. It was a human hand, four fingers and a thumb, though the nails were long, hard and claw-like. She looked up and beyond the creature's shoulder she could see black smoke billowing up into the sky. She could smell the burning, and she suddenly felt quite frantic and scared as tears stung her eyes.
Her home, her town...
And then there was another sound, like something crashing through the undergrowth. Twyla spun on her heel to see what it was, lost balance and fell backwards into the creature along with her brother.
A man's face stared at her with the same blue eyes as the yellow creature's. He was surrounded by a silver mane, and a great silver lion's body with huge leathery wings and a scorpion's tail arched and ready to strike. But it didn't look quite right. Where the yellow creature's torso smoothly became a lion's body, and fur gave way flawlessly to feathers, this one looked as though it had inexpertly been put together.
The yellow creature's arms wrapped tightly around the girl and her brother.
"You're too late," she hissed, raising her hackles, "the child is under my protection. The rite ends here."
The silver creature gave a furious snarl that sounded like the blare of hundreds of trumpets, and the other, the female gave a derogatory laugh. "Has serving the two-legger made you so stupid that you lost your ability to speak?" She peered closer, and her fanged smile became a frown. "No," she hissed softly. "Not a Manticore. Man made. A Chimera. Shabby work too." She stared the creature in it's blue eyes. "I'm sorry," the Manticore uttered to the Chimera. "I'm so sorry, whoever you were before. But it will end. Now."
Twyla and Lyle were terrified into silence, huddling closer to the Manticore as wisps of white spun alongside the Chimera. "It will end," a low voice said tranquilly, "though it will end with my victory, Amita. Give me the girl." A man all in white stepped out of the pale wisps of smoke. He had blood all down his front and he gave Amita a look that could only be constituted loathing.
In one swoop, Twyla found she and her brother scooped up and shoved roughly between the creature's wings. "Take her if you can, two-legger."
At that moment, many things happened at once. Amita turned her back on the man and the Chimera and started running down the slope, Twyla held on tightly to her brother and the creature's stomach, the Chimera charged and the man threw a spell at the Manticore.
Twyla felt a rush of air, and certain that she was dead, cracked open her eyes.
They were airborne, and from here she could see her town blazing red. Crowds were frantic in the streets and red fire engines were sailing down the streets. She could just make out the jets of water trying to put out the flames. Shivering, she hugged her brother. Nancy and Eliza were...
---
...safe. The Shinigami was panting, the huge gash down his front already healing. He was a tall, lanky man with scruffy red hair, and grayish brown eyes. He looked to be in his early twenties and wore a brown, pinstripe suit, an umber vest, white collar shirt, and a silk tie with a little gold pin. His derby had fallen to the ground, and his suit was positively ruined.
"Y'gel's all right then?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder. The two trembling middle-schoolers looked at him in horror. He looked down at the wound and the puddle of his blood he was standing in. Well, it might come as a wee bit of a shock to them...
"M'alright." He reassured, patting the rapidly closing wound albeit somewhat gingerly. "Had much worse before. But best be off if you two are all present and intact. Run along, quick as you like. Your houses are burning down and your parents'll be worried sick. No worries about your little friend, I'll make sure he doesn't harm a hair on her wee heid."
And he was gone in the direction the man in the white coat had run when they had heard what sounded like Twyla yelling.
"He was going to kill us," Nancy uttered hoarsely. "That ghost man..."
"We're okay." Said Eliza, suddenly feeling more responsible than she ever had in her entire life. She looked down at the wand she was clutching. Such a silly, cheap thing.
She tossed it aside, and helped Nancy get shakily to her feet. "Let's go."
"Home...?" Nancy whispered, trembling.
"Home." Eliza reassured, and looked up at the tree. Did you send him? That man in the derby?
And against all reason, Eliza felt something smile at the back of her mind. 'Yes.'
---
A/N: Wow, it's been a while since I last updated. Sorry about that, but school comes first and all that jazz.
First and foremost, I would like to say 'thank you' to those who reviewed this. Your comments and criticism are much, much, much appreciated, and I'm sorry for being so slow about this chapter.
I don't like this chapter. Mostly because it's rather dark, though considering the three series crossed over, I kind of figured it was going to take a turn to the dark side soon, but.. well, not this dark. I also spent a bit too much time on Twyla, though I wanted to get her developed fairly early since for the rest of the story her appearances will be brief.