Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ Emerald flame ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Emerald Flame - Chapter 2

D was twelve when it happened. It could have been prevented if he had listened to his grandfather. He always reprimanded him that they were different from society. One obvious aspect was their physical appearances. While others come in shades of blonde, ash and brown, their hair was solid black like the feathers on raven's wings. While others' skin comes with spots and freckles, theirs were flawlessly smooth and fair as the statues they craved for their shrines. Although the colours of their eyes came in all sorts, they were always a pair of a singular colour. Unlike D. Therefore, it was vital for D to keep his head covered at all times whenever he stepped outside. It was not the fat priests he should worry about but rather the slave traders who seedily slipped past the law. A pretty catch like him would fetch them a secured future.

As in most hormone rebellious boys, D desired to disobey. On that fateful day, his grandfather ordered him to bring some water from the river. While filling up the bucket, he felt the summer breeze running through his fingers, blowing against his hood, beckoning him to take it off. At first, he ignored it. Then as the breeze kept on blowing, the thought became irresistible. Looking around, he checked to see if anybody was around. There was none. Then, he guided his hands to his hood and yanked it off with one firm motion. Instantly, the summer breeze spread across his face, ruffling up his hair wildly. He laughed, enjoying the freedom he was denied for so long.

Then, it came. The thing that his grandfather feared merged to life. A wicked hyena laughter was heard behind him. D turned and was shocked to see dirty burly men appearing out the bushes. A few brushed off the leaves and twigs that they had used to disguise themselves. One of them pulled out a rope from his sack. A few more slowly approached closer to him. A steady cold realization seeped into D's mind. Slave traders!

Reacting instinctively, D threw the bucket at the nearest slave trader and ran, not wanting to know if it hit him or not. Dodging and slipping past the slave traders' clumsy attempts to capture him, he headed towards the clusters of trees. Grandfather was picking up some mushrooms over there. Then unexplainably, a great force threw D off balance. He stumbled and fell. A second later, a slave trader was upon him. D shrieked and thrashed about frantically. Holding him tightly, the slave trader waited for his companions to arrive. Once again, D saw the slave trader with the rope. By now, numerous hands were upon him, tying him up as if he was an animal. They gagged him with a dirty piece of cloth. The last thing he remembered was one of them holding a wooden staff dangerously over his head.

He awoke, with a splitting headache, to find himself in a wooden cage. Moving his legs, he heard a tingling sound. Looking down, he discovered that his legs were chained. The ground was swaying from side to side. He heard a door creaking. Lying flat on his stomach, he pretended to be unconsciousness. Heavy boots thumped closer and closer. By the sound of it, he guessed there were at least two. The thumping eased. Talking followed. D caught pieces of it. Laughter came minutes later, echoing away when they left. Curling into an embryo, D's eyes welled with tears.

For days, D fought with seasickness and homesickness, forcing himself to put up a brave front whenever they appeared. They didn't say much to him. They were there, making sure that their precious cargo remained alive and intact. One day, D felt the ground incredibly stable. They came, this time, with keys. Unlocking, they roughly pulled him out of the cage, half-carried him into another room where old women and a tub of hot water were waiting for him. Tossing him to them, the traders ordered them to clean him up for the market. The old women obeyed silently. With callous hands, they scrubbed D, as they would do to a cloth on a washing board.

Given fresh clothes to wear, the traders half-dragged him to a place that they called the market. D's eyes widened. Normally, animals were the goods. Instead, there were humans - men, women and children. Customers, donned in decorative colours, haggled with sellers as they swung pouches of gold and silver. Fearing the worst, D searched for a way to escape. There was none.

They came to a tent. D was grateful that he wouldn't need to be displayed like a piece of raw meat for all to see. He could see the traders discussing with someone who swiftly went outside. The traders were grinning among themselves. The same person reappeared with a masked customer by his side. The masked customer approached D who moved backwards. Seeing this, the traders moved in, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him closer to the masked man. With hands of Death, the masked man lifted D's chin, turning his face from side to side. He had his mouth opened and tongue stuck out. Limbs counted and bent to see they were in working order. Continuing his inspection, the masked man lifted D's tunic, paralyzing him with his intimate touch. After that, the masked customer handed the man a pouch.

At that moment, D's heart sank to the inevitable fate that he was never coming home.

Two years later…

Yawning, Lord André due Ivory rested his cheek upon his knuckles. After a decade of ruling, the idea of shooting his servants was tempting to the core. Banquets were an ultimate bore, the horrific routine of meeting the same old bootlicking people. They laughed. Correction, they laughed whenever he deliberately joked, no matter how stupid it was. His eyes caught Duke Kingston leaving the table. That oldster glob of lard. No doubt, emptying his stomach through vomiting for dessert. Lady Admans, sweet pretty viper, setting her eyes on the next servant to have between her legs. It was unfortunate that her husband's left eye wasn't sharp enough. If he were to sit on her right… Feeling thirsty, André signaled his servant to refill his goblet.

“Enjoying yourself, my lord?” asked Chamberlain Juunis du Red. The ends of his moustache shook like bells.

“Repeat that again and it's the gallows for you.” The chamberlain laughed. “I meant it this time, Junnis. The bloody same food, drink and people after sunrise and sunset.”

“The foundation of Evena Courts is based on its ruler and people.”

“Blah blah blah,” André wondered how Juunis would look without his moustache. “And more blah.”

“Perhaps if his lordship would care to cast his eyes among the fair young ladies of the Court.”

“Perhaps if the Chamberlain would care to cast his eyes on the food on his plate,” he responded defiantly with a fixed smile.

“As your lordship wishes.” He popped a grape into his mouth. “Oh… There's Duke Luke du Buble accompanied by his godson, Daniél du Buble.”

Looking in Juunis' direction, André saw Duke Luke du Buble in his usual garments of purple and silver. Rumours had it that there was an assassination attempt on his life during his younger days. He survived at the cost of his face, which was now covered with a plain ivory mask, the sole testimony of the legendary tale. Since then, the Duke never married. André heard it from Junnis that he secretly broke his engagement to his childhood sweetheart. Whether it was true, he never bothered to inquire. A beautiful youth was by his side. Immediately, André assumed him to be Daniél du Buble. Leaning for his goblet, he pretended to drink. Experience had taught him that there would always be eyes watching him.

Daniél du Buble bore no physical traits of any offspring born in the Evena Courts. His hair was richly black and skin as white as porcelain. There was a blend of European and Oriental breed in the youth. André could see Lady Admans turning her eyes at him. So did many others, including Juunis. The poor things couldn't help themselves. The youth's eyes were enticing. One was a radiant burst of golden sunrays while the other was an icy sapphire of the sea.

“A ravishing beauty, isn't it?” Juunis remarked. “Pity that he's a boy. Otherwise, I would introduce him to you without the slightest thought.”

“You would, wouldn't you? Indulge me, where did our Duke find him?”

“During one of his travels, I believe. The boy was an orphan, brought up in a respectable religious monastery. Their faith is similar to ours, I was told.”

“Really? By whom?”

“By whom?” Juunis stared at him curiously. Then, he hastily replied. “By the Duke himself, naturally.”

“The Duke? Of course, how silly of me.”

“My lord?”

“There are many monasteries that take in orphans in this land. Why go out and travel, especially at his age? And.” He held up his finger. “From what I heard the doctors, he's no condition to travel overseas.”

“It's not prudent to poke into one's personal affairs.”

“It's also not prudent to ignore when something is at amiss.”

The bedroom chamber's door closed behind D. Keeping his fingers steady, D tried to take off the ridiculous hat that the Duke insisted to wear. He hated the feathers. Only the court fools wore that. One by one, he removed the jewels from his fingers and pulled out the gloves. Ugly ornaments. He was in the midst of undressing when he heard a low creaking. Turning, he saw the Duke merging out of the secret door. The exact same way he did in that tent.

“Master,” he greeted politely, almost breathless.

“You have done well, my darling D,” said the Duke. “The Evena Court sings praises of your name. In time, our lord André due Ivory will summon your presence.” He bent down to whisper in his ears. “At that moment, you'll do exactly as I instructed you.”

“Then, you'll set me free?”

“As promised.” D felt hands moving all over his body. “Fallen angel.” The last of his garments dropped around his ankles. “To the sin of men.” Lengthy bony fingers groped till they found what they were looking for and squeezed, causing D to release a soft moan. “In shackles of the flesh.”

Leading him to the bed, the Duke pressed himself upon him, showering kisses. Wordlessly, D complied as he had been doing since his first encounter of that torturous desire.

“Turn over.” He commanded, watching his submissive slave obeyed. With a strong grip on the back of his neck, he mounted him. Little by little, the slave fell into the ecstasy of his master's lust.

Normally, after a night of gluttony, André had the luxury of sleeping through morning undisturbed till noon. Alas, the crude shaking of Juunis ruined it.

“My lord, my lord!” The fat chamberlain called out louder each time.

“For heavens' sake!” André snarled like a viper. “Can't it wait till the proper time for me to wake?”

“Begging your forgiveness, my lord. This matter is most urgent. Evena Courts is in an uproar!”

“A riot?” André took a wet towel from the servant and wiped his face. “Hang them all.”

“No riots. Your subjects are very civilized creations of our Holy Father. It is about Duke Luke du Buble.” Juunis' eyes showed nervousness. “He is dead, your lord.”

“It is natural for oldsters to die.” The young lord waited for his servants to dress him. “Bury him.”

“He was murdered!” Juunis almost shrieked, despaired at his young master's behaviour. “Last night. The doctors cannot determine the cause of his wicked death! The Duke's right-handed man, Raoul du Lancet, is demanding justice.”

“He has always been demanding since the day my late mother conceived me,” he remarked scornfully. “Without solid evidence to support it.”

“In this case, he has. The murderer.”

“Then, what does he need me for?” The servant did the last adjustment to André's collar.

“It's the godson of the Duke.”

“Him?” André signaled all the servants to leave the room. “How?”

“Witchcraft,” The chamberlain replied matter-of-factly.

“Witchcraft?” André took a goblet of fruit juice that the servants brought in earlier. “His mind has took a tremendous leap over the boundary of creativity.”

“If your lord would see the body, you would understand.”

With arching brows, André drank all the juice and set the goblet onto the tray with a loud clang. “Show it to me.” Juunis stared at him as if he had gone mad. Then with a polite obeisance, he led him outside where his carriage was waiting for him. Once inside, Juunis instructed the driver to head to the House of the late Duke.

“Where is he held?”

“Raoul had him locked up in the dungeons in the late Duke's residence. He wanted to confine the evil within the walls for the protection of your lordship.”

“And yet we are going straight there.”

“I assure your lordship that all the preparations have been done to ensure no evil would possess your lordship the second you step in.”

“Not obsessed with superstitions, are you?”

“Just taking extra pre-caution. Given the fact that we have neither the knowledge of the boy's background nor heritage and that he had two different eye colours,” He held two fingers firmly in the air. “Proves that the boy should not be taken lightly. Let us pray that our priests had our Holy Father's blessings to cleanse the malevolence spirits that led the boy to that hideous crime.”

“First you said he's a witch and now, he's demon-possessed. Which side of the story do you prefer?”

“He was last seen with the Duke, so said all the servants of the household.”

“And where was the place they last saw them?”

“In the boy's chambers.”

“At such an ungodly hour?” André sneered.

“Does my lord have another opinion?”

“Raoul du Lancet has his beady eyes on the Duke's property because he believes that it should rightfully go to him since the Duke has no direct blood heir. With the boy around, his hopes dashed like broken glass.”

“Is my lord suggesting that Raoul killed the Duke and set up the boy as a scapegoat?”

“As plainly as I can see you.”

“But the body…” Juunis protested. “The body had no physical wounds. No traces of poisons was detected…”

“Not all poisons are instantly detected,” André interrupted. “Some may take years for the symptoms to show. What is it?” He snapped irritably. “You looked at me as if I'm an imbecile.”

“When you see the body, you will understand.”

“Ah, the body!” The young lord was relieved when the carriage came to a halt. “The blasted body. Can't we let the old rest in peace?” Without waiting for the usual protocol, he stepped out and marched straight into the house, ignoring all the blustering around him. Hurrying to keep up, Juunis managed to lead his master to the room. While he was ordering the rest to remain outside, André frowned. This was not a room for sleeping but rather where one kept his important paperwork. Behind the desk, there was a large white cloth covering the armchair. Closing the doors behind him, Juunis was about to lift the cloth up when a loud commotion was heard. The door burst opened and entered a man with a ridiculous red wig on his egghead.

“My lord!” The man greeted graciously, bowing half-clumsily.

“We are in a middle of an investigation,” André clicked his tongue, pretending to notice him. “Close the doors, Raoul du Lancet. Juunis, lift up the cloth.”

“That is not necessary,” Raoul intervened after closing the doors. “The culprit has confessed.” He held up a sheet of paper with triumph. “In his own words, he confessed to the usage of witchcraft.”

“Juunis, lift up the cloth.” He purposely raised his voice louder. “As anointed by our Holy Father, he will send his guardian angels to protect my soul if Evil rise from this wretched corpse.” Raoul was persisting to part his sausage lips. “The late Duke was a respectful friend of my father, therefore, I take it upon myself to see that Justice is served. Remove the damned cloth, Juunis. Don't make me a naggy hag.”

No sooner the cloth was removed, came the powerful silence that André's tongue could not overcome. The Duke's corpse was no more than a dried up husk with lines to indicate similar likeness of bones. His face was reduced to a shriveled skull. There were no eyes in their socket, only replaced by dark emptiness. His mouth gaped distortedly, captured within the last seconds of his ill-fated end. Examining closer, André's sharp eyes caught an object grasped tightly in the Duke's skeletal fist. Deeming it as a parchment, André attempted to remove it, oblivious to shocked responses. The grasp was frightfully firm, resulting him to detach the fist from its body. More cries were heard. Finally, after breaking the fingers from the removed fist, André unroll the parchment and read its contents.

“By this deed, I, Duke Luke du Buble, hereby declare ownership and shall abide the following three conditions with my honour.”

“Firstly, feed her only with fruits and water once a day.”

“Secondly, she is to possess nothing save for a mirror.”

“Lastly and most significantly, have no eyes except yours upon her.”

“Should any of them be broken, I shall solely bear the consequences of my actions, renouncing the previous owner from any responsibilities whatsoever.”

“Signed by the late Duke with his seal,” ended André.

“The witch tricked him into signing the Devil's pact!” Raoul exclaimed, almost shoving the letter into his face. “It's written all here!”

“Did the accused confess on his own free will?” André beckoned Juunis to take it.

“Force was regrettably used. The Devil's hold on him was a challenge but through the strength of our Holy Father, our priests succeeded.”

“Have we forgotten something?” André stared at him dauntingly.

“I do not understand.”

“The boy, Raoul. Judging from where he's standing, he's better off burning at the stake.”

“Surely, my lord is not implying that…”

“What did I imply?”

“The Duke had lied about the boy's upbringing. He is a mere slave that my late master bought two years ago! A slave for his personal uses! A slave does not have the right to inherit his master's…” At the last word, Raoul's face whitened.

“It seems to me that you have a stronger motive to kill the Duke than the boy,” Juunis commented, showing the letter to André. “Based on this writing, I am doubtful that the boy could produce such a.” He took a quick peek at the parchment that André cooperatively handed to him. “Brilliant work. It takes years of practice to achieve such standards. Years of learned studies, I might add.”

“The boy was weak from his beatings,” Raoul protested. “Thus, his handwritings would be affected! The boy knew he could never be freed so he killed my master as an act of desperations!”

“A convenient hypothesis,” Juunis pointed out. “Perhaps, it is you who have made a pact with the Devil! It is you who used witchcraft on the late Duke!”

“Nonsense! If I had those evil powers, would I be able to use them now?”

“You can't because our lord is blessed by our Holy Father with his guardian angels. By His presence, you are rendered helpless.”

“Empty accusations! There is no concrete evidence to prove that I am the murderer.”

“Concrete evidence, you say. Was there concrete evidence any to prove the boy guilty in the first place? Silent, snake! Hold your tongue while you stay in the dungeons. Guards!” Juunis ordered. Instantly, armed men entered.

“You are all bewitched!” Raoul screamed, struggling as the guards dragged him away. “The Devil has taken a hold on you all!”

“Well done, Juunis,” André praised. “Excellent work. Have the necessaries done for our late Duke.”

“In a way, Raoul was telling one truth,” Juunis muttered solemnly. “The boy has bewitched you.”

“Is there a law that forbids a slave to inherit his master's possessions,” André pretended not to hear, poking around the documents that were left carelessly on the table. “Should he have no blood kin?

“Unless the master has declared him a freed man, why?”

“Because.” André pulled out a parchment. “I have found an official document that has it. The Duke had signed it. And all it needs is.” Stretching forward, he took a tiny ladle that contained liquid wax, poured a pool of it onto the document. Pulling out the front drawer, he found the Duke's seal and stamped it firmly onto the wax pool. “His seal. There. Although a slave, the Duke saw his heir in him and set him free.”

“That's your view,” Juunis objected. “If you are planning to execute Raoul…”

“Did I ever mention anything of that sort? After all, people do die in dungeons.”

Present time

“Even now people do die in their jails,” said D, fingering the locket. “Raoul du Lancet died a few days after his arrest. A suicide note was found with him. The Duke was buried with honours and after my recovery, André acknowledged me as Daniel du Buble, the rightful heir. Now that I think of it, burning at a stake wasn't so bad.”

“The Duke,” Leon questioned. “Did you…”

“After being in my bed for so long, what do you think?”

“I think André used you to get rid of Raoul. What's his problem?”

“Raoul is his brother. More precisely, a bastard.”

“Did Raoul know?”

“Does it matter? A human's heart never changes.”

“And yet you haven't said the thing that started this mess.”

“Nothing escapes you, Detective. Yes, the main story is yet to unravel. You might think that by becoming inheriting the Duke's titles and riches, I would become a freed man. No! I was a bird transferred from a much smaller cage. That cage is the Evena Courts. Fear not, my dear Detective. That little naïve bird had a great teacher, more cunning than the Duke. André due Ivory and did he instructed me perfectly!”

To be continued