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Chapter 43. All in the Family

by Brull

Didn't make sense, having someone hit you and not wanting them hit back. Gates, with the attitude that vixen had on her, Brull would have done the job for no reason at all. But then, Zula didn't seem to have the same common sense of most beasts. Probably didn't know what was best for her. "What's our next move then, Sheriff, sir?"

No idea. "I've got some ideas," the rat mumbled, trying rapidly to put things together in his mind. He really needed a drink. Ought to look for some later. Must be something in this place. "S'pose we should wait for Ms. Pearl to come back."

Zula looked confused. "So you went and found her an' did y'tell her to come here?"

Oh great, she had her brains rattled from being struck. And Zula probably couldn't afford to have her brain rattled too many times. "How could I? We ain't seen her since she went off with your otter buddy, and we only thought to come here afterwards."

"Then how's she gonna know where we are?"

Then again, Brull had smashed his head on a metal sheet, so who was he to judge? "That's... a good point," he ended lamely. How was Pearl going to find them? Who even knew if she was alive? They had lit the building on fire, after all. "I'll think of something. By the way, have you seen a little fox hanging around here anywhere?"

Scratching her nose, Zula smiled. "Yup, I saw one, looking right back at me when I was makin' faces at the soup pot. But me mam says that's just me. Don't know how I got there, what with me bein' here an' all."

Surprised at his own patience with his youthful ward, Brull sighed heavily and rubbed his brow. "No, I mean a really young fox. Pearl's kid, what's-his-name, Sandwich."

"Oh! Nope."

Damn. Where'd they put him, if he wasn't in the prison? They had broken out enough disgruntled beasts to form a small army, but without finding the kid, the job was only half done. And Brull hated half-done jobs. If you were going to do something, better to do it perfect and not worry about something going wrong later on. Not to mention Pearl would be crushed. Better find Pearl. "Right. You go and do whatever it is you do when you're not doing something else."

"Y'mean catch flies with a pan?"

"Sure."

Brull watched as Zula padded happily off to find some flies to trap. Before turning the hall corner, she gazed back at the rat. "Oh, and Mr. Sheriff, sir? Please don't hurt me ma. She doesn't know what she's doin', sometimes. Doesn't hit me all the time, 'onest."

Oh, she knows what she's doing, any beast but Zula could see that. "I won't touch your adorable little mother." Clapping, Zula vanished. Wasn't natural, not wanting revenge. It wasn't that hitting in general was wrong; it was usually the best way to get your point across. The thing that bothered Brull was that Zula was totally oblivious that she was being abused. Ought to be a law. Some big-headed matriarch beating up on the little-guy, just because the victim didn't have the guts to do something about it.

Zula might have been a porridge-brained little twerp, but she was his porridge-brained little twerp. She actually seemed to like him, which didn't happen very often, and he wasn't sure why he should care now, but would be damned if the only fan he ever had was going to get smacked around like that. Funny, didn't care much for other beasts opinions before. But then, no one had seemed to like him before.

Brull's head hurt. He needed a drink. Better find Pearl. Where'd Pretty-ears go?

He found the handsome fox, along with Scarnose, lounging out on a balcony, overlooking the street. Looking up at the Sheriff, Pretty-ears nodded in acknowledgement. "The triumphant commander returns. Is everything settled, boss?"

He called Brull "boss" again. The almost unconscious straightening of his back was unnatural, but pleasant. "Settled as can be, with who-knows-how-many escaped convicts crammed into a house, with the Feller's Hairs probably in hot pursuit."

"Got any plans for what's next?"

Everyone wanted to hear Brull's plans. It was both annoying and strangely flattering at the same time. Especially because most of the previous day had been spent with beasts telling him to keep quiet. "Nothing yet, but I'm working on it. 'Sides, who knows if the lot downstairs is going t'listen to anything I tell them, anyway?"

"They all followed you here, didn't they?" Pretty-ears pointed out with a wink. "You broke them out of prison. Might be some of them are grateful and want to return the favor."

The Sheriff had long since learned to be wary of flattering words, and he still wasn't sure if he trusted the fox. "And why d'you listen t'me, Pretty-Ears?"

The fox shrugged. "Maybe I'm grateful and want to return the favor. Maybe I've got nothing else better to do. Maybe it's your charming personality, dashing good looks, and the likelihood that you could break my head in if I say no."

The Sheriff hoped it was the foremost reason. Having beasts being grateful would be nice. It was high time that some noticed Brull was saving them. "Hurm," he mumbled. Giving orders and being listened to; what a concept. And why shouldn't they listen? He was saving their city, wasn't he? If they wanted their freedom, they'd better start listening to him. Needed a plan, though, and Brull couldn't think of one. "Pretty-ears, I've got a job for you, if you're interested."

The fox nodded. "What'd you have in mind?"

Feeling more confident with this show of obedience, Brull continued. "A friend of mine, Ms. Pearl, was in the headquarters we just left. I need to know if she made it out, and I want you to go stake out the building and see if you can find her. She's roughly middle aged, a little on the tall side..."

"I know what Pearl looks like, boss."

Brull blinked. "How could y'know what she looks like if you've never met..." Catching the coy eyebrow the fox was giving, the rat coughed and skipped the description. "Just find her and lead her back here."

"And if she's dead?"

"Well, then y'don't need to lead her back, do you?" Dumb question. Hoped Pearl wasn't dead. "And if you're caught, well, I reckon you know how to get out of trouble, don't you?"

Grinning with shark-like teeth, Pretty-ears got up to leave. "I'll find some old clothes. Ought to be some around here. No one will think much of another street dweller lying around." And with that, he left the balcony.

At least that had been dealt with. Groaning, Brull lowered himself into an oddly large chair. Strange that a chair this comfy was out on a patio. Usually they were behind desks, where the up-and-ups talked back to you. Like the Earl used to do. Now, that had been a nice chair. Just the place to command from. Remembering the grandeur of the cat's manor, the rat clawed at the arm of his chair, removing some of the ancient downing feathers. Bit shabby. Not that regal at all. And yet… gripping both chair arms tightly and crossing his legs, Brull leaned into the soft back-cushion and crossed on leg over the other. And inexplicable shiver ran up his spine. Looking over the rooftops of the city in his commanding chair, like something a king would do from his throne. Ridiculous thought.

Nice to think about, though. Never really came up, being a king. There were some lengths even Brull didn't dream of on the scale of authority. Would be nice, being able to boss others around without having to actually fight them. Especially when you got old, and couldn't fight anymore. Guess that was the appeal the Earl and Sarkyelet and the rest of them got off on. Like Nelda, reckoning Zula should shut up and listen.

Ought to do something about Nelda. Brull frowned. He'd love to shove that vixen's nose right down her throat. Heh, wouldn't be the oddest thing she'd had down her… Coughing, the rat scowled. So he had promised Zula he wouldn't. So what? It wasn't like he'd never broken a promise before. And Nelda had it coming, that was certain.

"Hey, boss!" The Sheriff blinked, remembering suddenly that Scarnose was still here. The stoat was smiling happily holding up… oh, Great Fates, he had a bottle. And not some hackney clay grog bottle, no, this was made with real glass! The liquid inside was clear, not muddled with dirt and grime, and yet had just the right consistency to ensure a pleasant travel down one's throat.

It was, beyond a doubt, the most beautiful thing Sheriff Brull had seen in this whole cursed island.

"Found this in one o' the ladies rooms," Scarnose went on, clearly unaware of what he had uncovered. "Tried a bit, but it's not really my type. You want I should chuck it? Hee."

"No!" Brull lurched unceremoniously forward to stop his henchman from disposing of the treasure. Cradling the alcoholic beverage in his claws, the rat tried to regain his composure as he leaned back into his chair. "I'll take care of it, Scarry," he explained, taking a delicate sip of the liquid. The wonderfully familiar bitter taste caressed his tongue, massaged his throat as the smooth liquor meandered it's way to the rat's tummy. Screw the ladies of the night; this was the best comfort a beast could have in a house like this. "Oh, bloody Gates, I needed that."

"Glad y'like it," the stoat nodded.

Taking another euphoric sip, Brull tried to think of any possible way to extend his gratitude to the stoat. Luckily, given what he knew of Scarnose so far, that reward wasn't hard to come up with. "Scarnose," he mumbled, forming a plan in his head. "Seems that the older vixen, that Nelda, doesn't think too highly of our efforts to save the world." Leaning back into his chair, Brull took another swig, the dulling effect of the booze having no effect on the sharpness of his sense of vengeance. "How'd you like to convince her of the wisdom of being on our side?"

"Hee."