part fourteen

The Count turned the page in his physics journal, preparing to read the article on a recent study in quantum physics. No sooner had he read the author’s name and contemplated the other articles that he’d read by Dr. Tashir Ranminjir than the tiny alarm beeped at him. “Vhat… ahh, yes. It is time to take another three green pills. I do hope that Kermit is enjoying his tour of Sunnydale.”

“Vun, two, three,” the Count swallowed the pills, grimacing at the taste. Pushing aside his musings of how Kermit would react to Sunnydale, he returned his attention to the article by Dr. Tashir Ranminjir and the delights of the quantum.

The tiny alarm beeped again, dragging his attention from the joy of dancing numbers. It was time to take more of his green pills. Swallowing them down, he stepped out of the room, half expecting Kermit to have returned, mind spinning with ideas and observations about Sunnydale. But Kermit had not returned. Nor had he checked back, or even sent a message with another of the Master’s minions.

The Count reminded himself that Kermit was a grown frog, and highly intelligent. He had spent several years as a reporter, managed the theater without loosing his mind, killing the annoying underlings, the special guests, or the health inspectors. Beyond that, Kermit had studied a bit of sorcery, enough to give him an advantage against an opponent, and knew a little about fighting. He’d also been doing well for himself since the theater had been forced to shut down. “He should be just fine. Kermit is a wery capable frog.”

He picked up the thesis by W. Burkle; permitting the dance of numbers to pull him away from all thoughts of Sunnydale. She had a delightfully fresh perspective, and he had the feeling that the numbers spoke to her, whispering their secrets in a way that far too few ever gave any heed. The numbers held the secrets and power of the universe.

The rising sun demanded his attention, despite the dozen feet of earth and concrete between himself and any stray sunbeam. With gentle hands, he placed the thesis beside the candle, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. “I must ask Kermit his thoughts about this town. Perhaps some of the older buildings vill have inspired him for another project. Some of his ideas have been delightful.”

He stepped out of his guest room, pulling the door closed behind him and ignoring the way the one minions scurried away, mumbling about his tender new spleen. Had the fool not been so arrogant and disrespectful, he would still have the previous spleen. He walked towards the main hall, uncertain which guest room Kermit had appropriated. “They should have returned by now.”

He looked around the hall, frowning as he spotted Joe and Danny whispering in a corner. Sarah leaned against the wall, one hand on a stack of colorful paperbacks. He could hear the faint whimpers from Paul, and thought that it might be time to finish the foolish minion off, before Paul’s suffering and screams drove the others to insanity and reckless behavior. He could even see the dropped form of a soon to be minion, not yet awakened.

He did not see Alex or Kermit.

“Vhere is my frog?” The growled words caught the attention of the others, and he could see Danny cringe.

“We haven’t seen him or Alex since they left for the tour,” Joe spoke, one hand tracing over the blocks of the wall. “They should have come back by now.”

Frowning, the Count considered all the many ways that Sunnydale could have interfered with Kermit’s tour. Alex was a vampire, he would not just let things run late and into the daylight when the sunlight could wound or kill him. There were eighty six possibilities that sprang to mind, all but two of them entirely unacceptable.

He left the hall, gathering a large silver platter, a pitcher of clean water, and a handful of salt. A simple water scrying would be no challenge for a sorcerer of his skill, even over the Hellmouth. Kermit was well known to him, and the distance should be relatively small. Pouring the water over the platter, he chanted, dribbling the salt into a few runes to activate the power. “Show me my frog. Show me vhat has interfered with Kermit and his safe return.”

Power swirled over the platter, tiny crackles of lightning and the water darkened to look closer to blood. An image formed, showing Alex and Kermit walking down the seventh alley in the industrial section, before a pair of tall demons attacked. Their gangly limbs, wicked talons and double rows of sharp teeth gave an intimidating first impression, but that species was quite vulnerable to blunt force at their joints and in the midst of their bones. He watched as the image played over the fight, the demons slamming Alex against a wall and leaving him in an unmoving heap. The second had seized Kermit by the neck, holding him until his struggles ceased. They had gestured, before leaving, still carrying the unmoving form of Kermit.

He released the spell with a snarl. “They have taken my frog. They do not have the right, the authority to do that to him. The owner of Sesame Street News held authority, before he released Kermit from their staff. The owner of Kermit’s apartment building on Sesame Street held some authority before Kermit moved away. Bunsen holds authority inside his laboratory. Out here, only I hold authority ower him, for he has been learning from me. I vill show them vhy it is not vise to anger Count vonCount.”

In eight minutes, he found a telephone and called Dwight. No longer helping with the Muppet Theater sets, the large blue ogre had been rather at a loss for purpose. “Dwight, you vill ensure that no Maerrocholiths leave Sunydale alive until I give other orders.”

“Why? They don’t normally bother us any,” Dwight rumbled, doubtless scratching at his head.

“They have abducted Kermit, and for that they shall pay,” Count hissed. “Make certain they can not escape under the light of the sun.”

“Yessir,” Dwight agreed. “I hope Kermit’s okay…”

“If he is not, none of them shall leave this area in pieces larger than my thumb.” Count concluded his conversation with Dwight, and made another call. It took twenty three minutes and seventeen seconds before he had ensured that the Maerrocholiths would not be leaving Sunnydale, and neither would anything capable of giving them orders. He would find whoever had Kermit, and after the sun set he would retrieve his frog.

Returning his attention to the scrying, he focused on learning who was commanding the Maerrocholiths. They weren’t smart enough to go around abducting people, not even to keep as food for later. They did make tolerable minions for those who would accept a vague adherence to commands and excessive violence in the execution of their enemies.

Perhaps the realms of the dead would have mercy on the remnants of those responsible. He certainly wouldn’t.

End part 14.