Chapter Text
Charles, for one thing, didn't understand why the stupid cat king had to follow them back to London. For another thing, he didn't know why the dodgy bloke had to keep summoning Edwin for various stupid things. His calling card, on the other hand, a hairball left on the back steps of the flat leading up to their office, he understood.
Charles was waiting outside the meeting spot, a warehouse in the Smithfield Meat Market district, because God forbid the cat king was ever not a cliche. One hand was wrapped around his cricket bat, staying at the ready in case things went south. He'd argued with Edwin the entire way here from their office mirror, to a mirror in a different warehouse, to the outside of the cat king's London headquarters. Edwin was of the opinion that Charles should wait outside. Of course, this was bollocks and insane but Edwin had argued that he might be able to talk the cat king into reason, to convince him not to have a feud with the London cat king with Edwin in the middle.
Oh that's right. There were two of them now. Both of them pricks. God knows, the Dead Boy Detectives didn't need them fighting, causing who knows what havoc with their armies of cats.
Charles hated waiting, wanting to be in front of Edwin in case Thomas (because that was his name, bit daft, but whatever) tried anything funny. He had agreed to give Edwin five minutes to "smooth things over" but made no promises after that.
At four and a half minutes, he let himself in.
Thomas and Edwin were a good three meters apart, so far so good. Thomas was enjoying his tête-à-tête apparently, as he was languidly spread out across his "throne", which was just a few stacks of wooden pallets that he (or maybe his cats?) had thrown together. Charles could see his face sour when he walked in.
"Ooh well if it isn't your little guard dog," Thomas said, making Charles roll his eyes.
Edwin gave Charles a look that said I'm floundering here, please don't make this any worse.
Charles posted himself against a steel support beam between the two of them to the side, bat held in front of him just to be sure. "Don't do anything weird and we'll all go home, right?" he said to Thomas.
Now it was Thomas' turn to roll his eyes. "Oh please, as if you can really back up any threats. My reflexes are too good, sweetie." Charles hated all the pet names this wanker came up with. Thomas turned his attention back to Edwin. "Now, where were we..." He pretended to think on it. "Oh yes of course! I'll be happy to drop my grudge against the London king if you'll do me this favour."
Charles lifted his chin, at attention. "What favour?"
"Charles, please," Edwin said, trying to get him to back off.
Thomas sighed, starting to slink across the floor toward Edwin. "I liked it better when it was just us, Edwin. Before the London king started to push back on my cats, before Charles walked in here. Why can't it always just be us? You know...private time." In the time it took him to say this, Charles had crossed the room to stand directly between him and Edwin, cutting him off from getting too close. He jabbed the bat in Thomas' direction, causing the cat king to take a hop back.
"Ay, that's close enough. What favour is he talking about, Edwin?"
The cat king bared his teeth. "Esther had the right idea with you: you should be chained up. You're a bad doggy."
Edwin put a hand on Charles' shoulder and Charles relaxed slightly. "It is doable," he said slowly. "Although not my preference, I shall do it to prevent a war in London."
Charles shook his head. "You heard him," he said to Thomas. "He's not feeling whatever sick idea you cooked up for him to do. How about you leave the London king alone, you get to keep all your lives, and I don't play whack-a-mole with your cats. Sound fair?"
"Charles, you do not need to do this," Edwin said. He rubbed the shoulder he was still touching but this time, Charles didn't soften.
"All I wanted was a date. If things go well, a kiss good night...well maybe a little kiss and a little under the shirt action, but we'll see where it goes," Thomas said, taunting.
"Right, that's not happening," Charles said, twirling his bat. "Edwin doesn't fancy you." He was ready to strike if the cat king made any sudden moves.
“Charles, don’t do anything silly,” Edwin said, fixing his collar for him, a comforting gesture.
Thomas looked between Charles and Edwin, his slimy gaze making Charles want to cringe. The cat king let out a little chuckle, then laughed harder, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. Charles didn't like this but at least Edwin would have time to get away if he attacked. He finally quieted down, looking at them with his cold, golden eyes. "I really can't hang around for the 'will they/won't they' much longer. If this is your territory, little puppy, I won't infringe on that. But if it's not...then it's open season. I'll be pulling out all my biggest stops."
The cat king snapped his fingers lazily and a sudden weight settled itself around Charles' neck. Looking down, he saw that it was a leather dog collar with little metal studs, thankfully made of silver rather than iron.
Charles rolled his eyes. "So what, this is supposed to trap me in London? This is where I live, yknow. Plus, it fits my style." He shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant even as his insides were starting to squirm at the thought of whatever this thing was for. "I don't mind it at all."
He glanced back to Edwin, who was looking pale. Although Charles wasn't sure if that was regular pale or "Oh no we're in trouble" pale.
"Oh, it hasn't been activated yet," Thomas said casually, getting Charles' attention again. "We'll see how you feel once I do..." He snapped his fingers again. "This."
Charles felt a convulsion go through his body, starting at his lungs, up through his throat and then his face. His body followed the convulsion, head thrown back as the--whatever it was--escaped through his mouth. It honestly felt like a hand had reached down his throat and into his lungs and...pulled something out.
"Charles!" Edwin shouted, hurrying to stand before him and trying to look him in the eyes. Charles dropped his bat to put both hands to his throat, coughing against the weird sensation.
"Charles, you're young enough to have seen The Little Mermaid, right?" Thomas said, sounding pleased with himself. An orange tabby meowed up at the cat king. "Oh, that's right...it came out in November 1989 and that was after you died. Well this'll be fun then! Glad the ending wasn't spoiled for you!"
"What have you done to him?" Edwin demanded, rubbing Charles' back soothingly. He had to admit, that felt nice. It was too bad he was choking too hard to be able to enjoy it.
The cat king smiled at them and made a show of zipping his lips.
"This wasn't the arrangement," Edwin said, practically growling.
"It's the new arrangement," said Thomas, walking away. "Have fun trying to figure it out." He began to saunter out of the warehouse entirely before tossing his head back around. "Oh and Charles? You have seven days to get that thing off you. If you don't....I'm afraid you won't like what happens to you. But at least then Edwin and I can have all the alone time we want. Toodles!" He transformed into his black cat form and hurried away.
Prick. Wait, hadn't he meant to say that out loud? Charles opened his mouth, trying to say something, to shout, to whisper but it all stayed locked tightly inside him. With a flash of anger, he realised the cat king had just taken his voice, with what had felt like a literal hand down his throat.
"Charles, are you hurt?" Edwin asked desperately, his scared tone pleading that the answer wasn't yes.
Charles shook his head, eager to ease Edwin's worry. He put a hand to his throat above the dog collar and tapped it pointedly with four fingers.
He'd lost his voice a small handful of times before--laryngitis, staying out late in cold air, his dad putting his hands around his neck. But this was different. It didn't hurt, for one, and he couldn't make any sound come out whatsoever, even a scratchy, hard to understand one.
"Your voice?" Edwin guessed correctly and Charles nodded. "Right, okay. We ought to find out who this mermaid is." Charles frowned. He knew the cat king was talking about a film, (and no, he hadn't seen it but if it were anything like Splash he probably would have liked it). He mimed writing something down and Edwin nodded. "Yes, Charles. You've something to say?" He offered Charles his notebook and pencil.
Charles wrote down "The Little Mermaid is a film" and handed the notebook back to Edwin.
Edwin looked confused. "Charles, what is this?" He held the notebook up.
Charles looked at what he'd written and it was completely unreadable, just squiggles and unrecognisable symbols.
"I don't recognise this language, Charles," Edwin said, sounding a bit annoyed. Probably because he was worried, Charles reasoned.
Charles took back the notebook and watched himself write this time. What was supposed to read "It's a film" came out of Charles' handwriting as gibberish again. Charles even tried writing his own name but he couldn't even do that. He looked up at Edwin, distressed.
"It's alright, Charles," Edwin assured him. "Evidently, this spell causes the victim to be unable to communicate through speech or writing." Edwin put his fingers underneath the collar, inspecting it. He then made a peculiar face. "You...can understand me, right?"
Charles nodded. He hadn't even considered the mess they'd be in if everything out of Edwin's mouth was nonsense too.
Edwin seemed to take solace in that. "It's going to be alright. We will get this sorted. I promise." He placed a hand to Charles' bicep, giving him a brief squeeze. "Now, I suppose a mermaid would be located in the sea, naturally, but I'm not at all sure where to start looking. Best go home and do some research."
Charles sighed, soundlessly. He had no way of explaining that this was not at all a real mermaid. Best to let him do his research and find out.
Charles followed Edwin out of the warehouse and back to the mirror they'd come from. Edwin walked very close to him and kept a hand on him the whole way, almost as if afraid Charles would disappear on him.
Charles definitely felt invisible, that was for certain, but when Edwin held onto him, it was grounding and comforting. He didn't feel like Edwin would leave him behind. They could solve this, undo the spell, and Charles wouldn't have to find out what happened if he couldn't get the collar off.