Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Dragon Ex Machina ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Dragon Ex Machina

 

DISC: I do not own Pet Shop of Horrors or its characters. These are the property of mangaka Matsuki Akino and publishing house Tokyopop (in the U.S., anyway). I make no profit from this story. Please don't sue.

 

 

Chapter 2 - In which D tries again

 

 

Toronto is a lovely city. Okay, the weather could be better - a bit north of the Midwest, it was prone to the same types of wild storms, but with colder temperatures. But socially, it was like a mini New York City, only with friendly people. People of all walks of life mingled together, celebrating art and diversity.

 

Oh, and the pastry shops. Divine. There were fine, elegant bakeries as well as the ever-present doughnut shop. Canadians truly appeared to love their doughnut, and had taken the sweet to new heights.

 

D knew that these treats were less than elegant, almost common. But for some reason, that made them all the more special. Of course, he only allowed them as special treats - once a week on Sunday mornings.

 

“Morning, Count!” The young woman behind the counter greeted him cheerfully. “Your usual?”

 

As she turned around to fill his order he couldn't help but notice that her black Mohawk was again showing the fiery red roots that were her natural coloring. The black dye in her hair made her skin seem even paler than it would have naturally. She had a piercing in her nose, and three in her right ear lobe, one in her left lobe and one at the top of her left ear. She'd gone out of her way to try to seem dangerous, but she was simply too gregarious for it to put anyone off.

 

“Thank you, Jessica,” he smiled at her efficiency as he walked up to the counter. She was quickly shaping one of the carryout boxes and placing an assortment of various doughnuts: raspberry jelly-filled, custard-filled, chocolate glazed with cream filling, cinnamon twists, and plain cake, which Pon had taken a distinct liking to. In the three months since he'd parked the ship in this city, he'd become a regular of the doughnut shop and Jessica worked every Sunday.

 

“I'm going to slip you a couple extras today,” she stage-whispered. “They're our new flavor - `French Toast.' They're cinnamon flavored and dipped in a maple glaze. Somehow, they just seemed to call your name.”

 

The Count waved at her, “You really shouldn't…”

 

“De nada!” she declared, perkily. “I get to take home six a day anyway. And I got sick of doughnuts after my first week working here. I never take home my fair share. If I want to give a couple to people I like, I can do it. So no worries!” She took his money for the two dozen donuts and placed it in the register. “Besides, you like `em, you'll come back for more. I figure I'm doing the owner a favor!”

 

A roughened voice called out from down the counter, “Hey! Then why don't you ever give *ME* any free donuts?” It was a clean-cut gentleman, whom D had noticed frequented the shop fairly regularly - he was at the shop about every third Sunday while D visited. Usually, the man watched D interact with the girl, his eyes not missing a single detail. But he had never said anything before.

 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I said I can give my free doughnuts to people I *like*, Detective. What on earth would make you think *you'd* belong to that category?” Using another stage whisper, she turned back to D, not noticing that the smile had frozen in place on his face. “I swear, you want to find a cop, all you have to do is find the closest doughnut shop.” Calling over her shoulder, she joked with the attractive young cop some more. “Anyway, why are you still hanging out here, Pevir? Don't you have someone you need to arrest, or give a ticket to or something?”

 

“Jessica, it truly is a shame that a girl as pretty as you houses such a mean tongue,” he laughed. And then, his face grew grim. “But yeah. I do gotta go. There was another one last night. So promise me you'll be careful coming to and from work, okay? You run across this bastard alone and I'll never get that chance to take you out on the town.”

 

The girl scoffed. “You ever bother to ask me out, you'll see what a mistake all your flirting has been. `Sides, that creep ever sees me in a dark alley, *he'll* be the one running to the cops.”

 

Muttering, “You just better be careful,” the plainclothes policeman left the shop, casting glances back in the girl's direction when she wasn't looking.

 

Jessica shook her head as soon as the cop was out the door. And muttered without really realizing she was speaking out loud. “That guy. I swear. I see more of him than my own roommate. I just don't know what to make of him. Half the time, I think he comes here just to give me shit and the other half…” She shook her head and D heard her mumble, “Wish the fucker would make up his mind and either ask me out or stop coming here.”

 

Blinking, D inquired, “Who… was that fellow?”

 

“Detective Tom Pevir. Don't let the badge fool you. He's pretty okay - most of the time. He comes in here whenever he needs a break or something, almost every day toward the end of my shift. I guess everyone needs a place where they can get away from the horrible things that people do to each other.” Her voice betrayed the concern she felt for the young officer.

 

“I… You seem…” The Count faltered. “Do his visits… bother you?”

 

The girl snorted. “Hardly! He's a great guy. Upstanding. A complete gentleman. The kind of guy your mother wishes you'd bring home. The complete opposite of me.” Her voice was a bit self-derogatory. And just a tad wistful.

 

He nodded at her in negation. “I think you give yourself too little credit, Miss Jessica. You are a delightful, intelligent, industrious woman. And from what little I saw of Detective…” he swallowed at the word, “Pevir, he would more than agree.”

 

The girl blushed at the compliment. “And you wonder why I give you free doughnuts.”

 

He smiled softly.

 

“Still, I'm a little worried about him. He's been working so hard. Every time that fucker kills another girl, it's like he feels personally responsible - like until he catches the sonofabitch, every girl who dies on his beat is his fault. It's tearing him apart.”

 

She was referring to the serial killer who had been on the news since before D had arrived. No one had any idea who the man was, just that he attacked women of a punk/goth persuasion. The news had mentioned that the girls were molested both before and again after death, and that their bodies were mutilated and “left on display” in obscene positions.

 

The Count swallowed hard. “He's lucky he can rely on you, then.”

 

She snorted again, but looked pleased at the thought. D turned to leave the shop, and stopped just before exiting. “I wish you much luck and great happiness, Miss Jessica.” He fled the shop as if it were on fire.

 

X

 

 

As they finished up their tea and doughnuts, the chimes over the door announced a visitor.

 

D set his cup on the tea table and quickly made his way to the front room. “Welcome to Count D's Pet Shop where love and…” he stopped in the middle of his sentence as he recognized the visitor. “Well, good afternoon. Detective Pevir, isn't it?”

 

The muscular young man nodded. His medium brown hair was cut short like a soldier's. His outfit of sage khakis, pale yellow button-down shirt and forest-green tie, while showing the wrinkling one might expect after a grueling day trying to find and capture a psychopath, was obviously well-tailored and quite fetching. It displayed his broad shoulders and lean waist. If it were in a different color palette - perhaps sand for the khakis, and blues for the shirt and tie - it would look exquisite on…

 

“You were at the doughnut shop,” he commented and D nodded in response. “Then you'll understand. I… I need to get a guard dog.”

 

The Count nodded once, tersely. “For Miss Jessica.”

 

The young detective's face was pained. “Yes.”

 

“Are you certain Miss Jessica has the means to care for a pet?”

 

Detective Pevir grimaced and looked away.

 

“My dea- Detective Pevir, I am afraid that I cannot help you. A guard dog is not the solution to your situation. Things are rarely that simple.”

 

He reached out and grabbed the Count by the front of his cheongsam and shook him twice. “But I have to do something! Don't you understand?”

 

Smiling softly, D took Tom Pevir's hands in his own and gently removed them from his garment. “I do. But it would be unfair to both Jessica and the dog, were I to agree to this.”

 

He saw the man's face harden, could almost hear him thinking, `I'll just go somewhere else - to another pet store,' and the kami shook his head. “I do understand your desire to protect that which you care about - believe me, I do. It is very noble. However, the purchase of a guard dog is perhaps not the best way to demonstrate your concern.” He let the sentence drop off, so that it was apparent there was more left unsaid.

 

“You don't know. You haven't seen what this maniac does to them. If… I can't let it happen again - not to her!” The clean-cut officer was so distraught. D could see bags under his eyes, and he looked terribly gaunt. As D stared into the man's brown eyes, he could see the ghosts of the girls whose lives had been lost, could see the terror that the doughnut girl might be next.

 

“Detective Pevir,” he bit the inside of his cheek as he considered whether to say any more. After a huge sigh, he continued, “Why is it that people find it so difficult to just tell the ones they lo-” he swallowed convulsively, “care for, how they feel until it's too late? Do you not think that you might better care for her if you were `together' as it were?”

 

The man shook his head sadly. “She… she doesn't like me. I'm… not her type. I'm just one of her cop customers.”

 

“Really? That's strange,” D commented. “Because after you left she said something about how she wished you'd ask her out. But perhaps I misunderstood.” He almost laughed at the look of hope on the man's face.

 

“Go walk her home. Her shift should be about over now. I will not sell you a dog for her unless she consents to take care of it.”

 

The young man's mouth set into a tight line and he nodded once, then turned and left the shop.

 

After he was gone, D stared at the door for several minutes. Finally, he ceased his brooding and called over his shoulder, “Tetsu, it's time for fresh meat.”

 

The totetsu raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? What kind?”

 

“There is a human in town who fashions himself a predator. I believe we shall teach him what that word truly means.”

 

He might not sell the man a dog that Jessica would most likely not be able to keep in her small apartment, but that didn't mean he wouldn't help keep the young lady safe. She did, after all, provide him with such delightful confections - common though they might be.

 

And if the detective had a modicum of sense, perhaps he would admit his feelings and not leave things to die from lack of attention. Humans could learn sometimes. When they had someone to guide them.

 

He kept his thought firmly on the red-now-black haired girl, and did not allow it to wander to anything - or anyone - else, as he and Tetsu set to hunting that night.

 

His decision to remove the killer directly, of course, had nothing to do with detectives who took the world on their shoulders, even to their own detriment. No.

 

He was merely protecting the charming doughnut providers of the world.

 

 

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