The Curse of the Eberbachs

by Heather Sparrows and Anne-Li

Part 11: The night. B-Day (1985) minus 12.

The night had been quiet, although Dorian had not slept much. "Major" had refused to join him in the bedroom, had insisted on staying in the living room instead, with the door to the bedroom firmly closed. Dorian had given in to his demands, except for the firmly closed door, so he had heard his beloved restlessly pace the room, his claws clicking on the floor, then the tap-tap-tap when he had crossed the carpeted sections, the snuffling noises when he had examined something. Despite his exhaustion and his injuries, Klaus was restless. Small wonder ...

After a while, Dorian had heard the large dog jump on something, a chair or most probably the couch, mutter a heartfelt "Scheißdreck *!" and then there had been silence.

Dorian would have liked to lie close to Klaus, to comfort him, and he had been sorely tempted to get up and sit next to his sleeping love, but then Klaus would have woken up again. He surely would not have wanted Dorian around when he was sleeping, and Hell knew, he sorely needed his sleep. So Dorian had stayed in bed.

Part 12: First morning. B-Day (1985) minus 12.

Klaus woke up as he almost always woke up, instantly clear-minded and ready to face the day. Unlike most mornings, though, he kept his eyes closed for just a moment longer. Everything will be back to normal. It was just for one, horrible day. I will be myself again. Human. I can get the hell out of North Downs. Never set foot here again. For he couldn't fool himself into wishing that the whole horror story had never happened. The room was permeated with the sickly sweet, yet somehow familiar and comforting scent of the Earl of Red Gloria. He was also lying on a hairy rug. Naked!

The possibility that he might be lying nude in the Earl of Red Gloria's home, just an open door away from Dorian's bedroom, had him on his feet so quickly his head spun. All four of his feet, sadly, though he couldn't help but feel grateful that at least he had been spared the indignity of having to wrap himself in the velvet curtains or something. He padded over to the door and glanced over at the bed. All he saw of the Earl was a mass of curls. He looked over to the window instead. Bright light streamed in – too strong to be mere morning. A new glance towards the bed, this time to locate a clock, confirmed that he had overslept his normal waking time by over two hours.

Annoyed that even his body's normally so obedient rhythm had let him down he stretched as well as he could and then did an experimental push-up. The dog-body made it awkward and the motion felt pointless, so he didn't follow through with his usual program. Besides, the fop might wake up soon enough. I don't want to give that bugger a show with my arse up in the air. Sit-ups were out of the question, of course, so he would have to make sure he got a good run later on.

Part of his pelt didn't feel right, so he spent a few moments grooming himself. Then he looked towards the bed again. The fop still slept. The pervert actually wanted me to share the bed with him! Ha! As if I would sleep at his stinking feet! And as if he would need anything softer than a rug to sleep on! Granted, if he hadn't been in dog shape he probably would have felt a bit stiff after the past night, but as it was he had slept well. The fire that the Earl had laid before going to bed had been particularly nice.

Feeling restless he ran over to the window and leaned on the window sill to look out. Green fields, flowers and trees. Nothing useful. He padded over to the bowls Dorian's men had brought and slurped a little water. There was no food. He wanted food. Something nice and juicy, like that steak Rudy had brought. Or like the duck - crunchy and tender at the same time. He loped back towards the window to check if he could see any ducks, when a wave of cold dread washed over him and he slid to a stop. Birds? No! I'm a human! I don't eat living birds! That was a mistake! He quickly lay down on the rug again. The restless sensation remained, though he now felt fairly sure that it was something other than simple hunger. If only the fop would wake up so we can get started!

To return to sleep was impossible and besides, his bladder had started to make itself known. After a while he got up again to groom his pelt some more. His paws felt much better. The Earl had been right about that salve of Bonham's working miracles. Then his stomach twisted a little and he sighed. Enough is enough, he decided and resolutely trotted over to the bed.

Despite the bed's impressive width and length, the Earl had managed to sprawl himself over most of it, by lying with his head on the left pillow and his feet in the right lower corner. He lay prone with his arms akimbo and his head to the side. That's why he is hunting me – he needs someone strong enough to keep him from hogging the bed. Would it work to just put an arm around him and keep him in place, I wonder? Images detailing a couple of other suggestions rose to his mind and he hastily shook his head to clear himself from the momentary weakness. Concentrate, von dem Eberbach! Your mission is imperative! You've been lazying around here for far too long! Work! Besides, he had a rather ... pressing problem.

"Gloria? Wake up!"

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

"We are wasting time. I have a mission to get back to. Wake up!"

Finally! The Earl moved, tossing his head so that his mane of hair all rolled over to his left, away from where Klaus stood. "Just a few more minutes, Jamesie," he mumbled.

"Gloria!"

"Make sure the receipts add up, that's a dear, you know I love you."

The blanket had been pushed down over the Earl's shoulders to reveal a silk pyjama top in cyan blue with a pattern of gold roses. The toss of his head had bared his long neck line and part of a pale nape. With great relish Klaus firmly pushed his cold snout against the pinkish skin.


"Hey!" Dorian opened one eye. Through a curtain of blond curls, he looked into the face of the big Doberman to which the man he loved had changed. And if ever a Doberman had looked grumpy, it was this one.

"Oh, Darling." With a considerable effort, Dorian lifted his head to take a look at the electrical clock on his nightstand. 8:30.

"Did you sleep well?"

"No. And I need to take a fucking leak. Let me out. – Move it!" he shouted, when Dorian did not obey immediately. "Or do you want me to lift my leg at your sofa?!"

Dorian sat up in alarm.

"Oh my poor Darling!"

The dog looked as if he had a lot more to say, but refrained from it because of more pressing matters. Dorian left his room, went downstairs and opened a side door, which led into the large, park-like garden at the rear of the castle. He saw the huge, sleek form of the Doberman cover the lawn at an enormous speed and vanish somewhere into the bushes at the far end.

Dorian shook his head. A normal dog would have lifted its leg at the first tree or bush available, not have run down to the far end of the inner garden. But this dog was Klaus, who fiercely guarded his privacy ...

He watched the Doberman emerge from the bushes again, making the typical scratching movements with his hind legs that a dog does to cover its excrements. Then "Major" tore around the lawn, startling a squirrel, which fled up a tree, and a few blackbirds, which took to their wings with a noisy warning.

Dorian observed how the large dog ran; he admired the long, sleek muscles moving under the dark silken coat when the animal came close, just to tear away again until he had shrunk to a black spot at the farthest end of the wide area. He thought of the Major's habit of working out and running. It did not surprise him that Klaus had turned into a dog which would need a lot of exercise. He also knew that his beloved was an early riser. Small wonder that as a dog he would demand to be let out at the most ungodly hours, when usually no one would be up and about in his household ...

Well, I'll have to live with rising early when he is around, Dorian thought. Either in human form or as a dog. – How beautiful he is, how graceful ...

He stopped himself because it dawned on him that he was thinking lovingly about a dog. Or better: about a man who had become a dog, whose dog-state hopefully was only temporary ... What if not? What if Klaus remains a dog for the rest of his life ...?

Dorian shuddered, and not from the morning cold and the dew which had soaked his silken Turkish slippers. They would find a way to change Klaus into human form again ...

He was amazed at his own line of thought, amazed at how easily he had accepted the impossible fact that the man he loved had turned into a dog. Such things did not happen in real life, they happened in fairy tales or horror movies ... And yet, here he stood, Dorian Red, the Earl of Gloria, the Prince of Thieves, shuddering in his silken pyjamas, his feet soaking wet, because he had stepped out on the lawn to watch the man he held dear in his heart tear through the garden in the shape of a large Doberman. And it was real. Unmistakably real.

It took a long while, then the dog came back, panting, shaking itself.

"Lingering about outside, getting your feet all wet! Man, I'll need you as my human eyes! As my human shape! Can't have you lounging in bed, nursing a cold!" the Major said. He kept his voice low, so as not to wake anybody and arouse suspicion. Dorian, however, could not help laughing. This was the Major, no doubt. And especially bad-tempered, probably because he could not have a smoke.

"Stop braying like a silly ass!" the Major hissed angrily.

"Sorry, Darling." Dorian had a hiccup now.

"I could do with some caffeine, " Klaus remarked when he followed Dorian up to his room again.

"Oh, Darling, I don't think this is a very good idea ..."

"Black. And strong."

"It might upset your tummy, Darling."

"Verdammt nochmal *, don't talk to me as if I was a bloody five-year-old, just because – because I'm a dog!" the Major exploded.

"Shhhh!" Dorian admonished him. They had just passed the corridor where Dorian's men had their quarters. A door opened and Bonham came out, dressed in his pyjamas. He went up to the Earl.

"Mornin', M'lord. Ev'rythin' alright?"

"Good morning, Bonham. Sure. I've just taken Major out."

"Thought Oi 'eard voices."

"Oh no!" Dorian said a bit too quickly. "I was just talking to Major here. I wonder, Bonham, could you make us some tea? And bring a cup of Nescafé and a large saucer?"

Bonham scratched his head.

"Very well, M'lord." He looked doubtfully at the Doberman.

"Ah, there's a dear. Thank you, Bonham."

For a moment, the stocky man watched his employer and the big dog following him, as he walked up the stairs. A lovely picture, the large, majestic dog and the tall man in his blue silk pyjamas, with his mass of blond curls.

Nescafé? Probably for "Major"? 'E's definitely pushing the parallels between Uncle NATO and that dog a little too far, Bonham thought and shook his head. Nes for a dog? But then, Grandma's tomcat, Ahasver, would take some tea from time to time. So anyway, Major won't take the Nes if 'e doesn't loike it. Hm. Never been sure about that cat. Could've been an unregistered Animagus ... Somethin' smells fishy 'ere. P'rhaps Oi should 'ave a closer look at "Major" ...

He shrugged and went down to the kitchen to prepare the ordered beverages.

As Bonham had guessed, the Earl poured some of the Nes into the large saucer, blew on it and put it on the floor. The Doberman sniffed it but refused to take any of the drink.

"P'raps if you added some milk, M'lord?" Bonham suggested before he left and closed the door behind him. The pang of guilt he felt when he pressed an ear against the door was only mild. He wanted to verify his suspicion. He was a bit worried about his employer. And, come to think of it, maybe even Uncle NATO had bitten off a bit more of the cake than he could swallow ...

He heard the clattering sound of a plate being pushed around on the floor. Apparently, now that he had left, the dog had taken the Nes. Full of thoughts, Bonham went down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.


Dorian refilled the saucer, and the Major carefully lapped up its contents again, his big tongue working the plate energetically over the floor.

He looks so cute, lapping up the coffee, but if I tell him so, he'll probably get angry again ...

A third helping, then the cup was empty.

"That was good."

The damn fop was ogling him again with that strange, loving, genuinely worried look ...

"Lock the door."

"But why, Darling?"

"Once and forever: Stop this 'Darling' crap! I want a cigarette, and I won't have Roly-Poly or someone else barging in!"

"No way, dear!" Dorian shook his head vehemently. "A cigarette will smell horribly to you, and your – new body won't tolerate nicotine. You will get terribly sick."

Klaus growled. Probably the fop was right.

Shit. Now, that's a rather new and interesting way to give up smoking!

"Enough of this nonsense. I need you to talk to Z."

Dorian was not amused. "Why do you need me to talk to Z? I can dial for you, if you want?"

"No good. He knows I'm on a special mission. If I were to call he would be suspicious. You must do it."

Dorian gave in. "Very well, my dear, of course I will talk to Z. He's always such a nice boy to talk to."

Klaus felt his ears go down. Since he was cropped they couldn't move much, but he still felt the attempt. It was a very odd sensation; odder even than to curl up so tight that he could rest his head on his hind paws. "Don't talk about him like that," he growled, adding, as an after-thought, "He's a good German boy."

"Yes dear, that's what I meant. I like talking to nice German boys."

"Pervert! You keep away from Z!"

"I wasn't just talking about Z, you know. Anyway, of course I will talk to him for you. Just give me a chance to freshen up a bit first and dress. In the meanwhile you can tell me what you want me to say to him and ask of him."

By the time Dorian was ready to dial, Klaus felt ready to bite him. How could anyone – and especially a man – take so long time to get ready in the morning!? It wasn't even as if he was going out or to a fancy dress party or anything! It was just an ordinary morning! Granted, Klaus knew that he himself usually took a little longer time than the norm to get ready, since he kept his hair long, but that was a spit in the ocean compared to the Earl's leisurely preparations. Four times had he come out of the bathroom. Each time Klaus had been sure that they would now get on with calling Z, but each time Dorian had just fetched something and then disappeared again. One time he had only worn a towel around his hips and another around his hair! In fact, he still wasn't completely dressed. He wore a red, half-open blouse with ruffles to the point of ridiculousness. His white pants reached to just below his knees and left his strong, muscular ankles bare. No socks; no shoes. They had finally settled in the sofa next to the phone. "I'm not sure I quite got it. One more time, Klaus, just to be safe," said the Earl, sounding slightly troubled.

Klaus sighed, but complied. "[Ich bin ein Freund, Dir lieb und teuer, helf Dir finden Deinen Weg *]," he sang. This was the second time the Earl had asked him to repeat the text and thus the third time he had sung it. Surely this time the Earl would get it right.

"[Ich bin ein lieb und teuer Freund, Deinen Weg helf—]" Dorian started.

"No! Listen to what I'm singing, you damn—" Klaus growled, before he finally noticed the sparkle in Dorian's eyes and caught on. "—perverted limey! You know the song fully well! Now call Z and hurry! I'm hungry!"

Dorian at once looked serious. "I'm sorry. Are you sure I shouldn't tell Rudy to bring food for you?"

"No! You must talk to Z now, before he heads out, if he hasn't done so already. You're wasting precious time, you git!"

"Oh. I'm sorry. I'll call him right away."

He actually did. Klaus scooted a little closer and could soon hear Dorian sing, in a close to flawless German, [Ich bin ein Freund, Dir lieb und teuer, helf Dir finden Deinen Weg] followed by, "Hello dear Z! It's me, Eroica."

"Oh, he thought you might need a bit of a helping hand. Do you, dear? Is everything going well?"

Klaus felt his ears go back again.

"No. No drop-dead gorgeous, tall German men with long, black, silky hair and eyes like emeralds around here, dear Z."

Klaus growled in warning. Dorian waved at him.

"I'm sure he'll show up any day now. A dog? How strange."

"Yes. Oh, yes, my dear."

"Aha. And how are you and the others doing? Lonely, is it?"

Whatever Z said had Dorian laughing. Klaus contemplated biting him.

"Aha. Yes, I think so."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Very well, then, sweet Z, just be in touch if you need me to help you. Bye-bye."

"You flirted with him!" Klaus growled as soon as the phone was hung up.

Dorian patted him on the nose. "Don't be silly, dear, I was just being friendly with the poor boy. He sounded quite stressed, you know."

"Why? What has happened?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I just think they weren't ready for you to disappear like you did."

"I told him I had to leave!"

"Yes, yes, but apparently the management spoke to them about ... odd behaviour from your side and a big dog at the hotel. Poor Z was so puzzled by everything."

"The mission, then? What did he say?"

"Oh, nothing new. They're still looking for the—oh." Dorian broke off the sentence with a distraught gasp, which made Klaus sit up and hastily look around to see if something threatening had appeared in the room.

"What? What are they looking for?"

Dorian rose and held up his hands towards Klaus, as if trying to keep him on the sofa. "Klaus – I want you to promise me that you won't be mad at me now."

Klaus reflected that this was probably the stupidest thing he had ever heard the Earl say. "Out with it! What?!"

"The thing is ... Patrick Retty? The scientist? Whom you're looking for?"

"Ja?"

"I was going to ask you for a kiss and then I totally forgot about it and—"

Klaus jumped back. His lips pulled up and back on their own accord. "I'm not kissing you!"

"No, no, I just can't believe I forgot about it! Klaus – I'm so, so sorry!"

"You're not making any sense, you idiot! What are you nattering about?"

"With all the excitement I just plain forgot to tell you. I know where Patrick Retty is."

end part 12.


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