Disclaimer: Underworld, Hellboy, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring are not mine, but since I don't make any money out of this, I have broken no law.
Chapter 2 - In Which Stuff Happens
A woman on the sidewalk screamed. "Piotr! My baby! Somebody save him!"
The black SUV thundered closer; the little boy simply sat there, cross-legged, expressionless, in the middle of the street, like somebody out of a Stephen King novel, still totally unaware of the horror and shock of the people around him.
Time as it was known stopped then and there. The onlookers stood rooted to the ground, united in fear and dread; the sun halted in its path across the sky to watch; beads of water dripping from icicles hung in midair, suspended in time.
Lucian stood still, caught between wanting to save the boy and his own dread. Thoughts rushed through his head in a maelstrom of emotion. What if the boy was run over? He would surely be killed. And the mother? Lucian remembered her scream of agony. She would be devastated.
"Screw this!" Lucian lunged out into the street, Sonja's screamed protests ringing in his ears. He stood in the middle of the road, and held up his red-gloved hand. Still the massive vehicle didn't even slow down.
In the span of a second, his arm grew in mass. The skin darkened, the hair thickened, swelling muscles stretched his coat sleeve to the seams. He bought his clenched fist down onto the hood of the oncoming SUV with a bone-jarring crunch.
"RED MEANS STOP!"
Propelled by its momentum, the Cadillac sailed harmlessly over Lucian and the little boy, flipping over twice in midair, and landed on its wheels with an earsplitting clang.
"BOO YEAH!"
Then, as quickly as it had changed, Lucian's arm returned to normal. He calmly returned to the sidewalk with the little boy, who, by now, was, to say the least, visibly shaken.
Sonja was ashen-faced, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as Lucian stepped onto the sidewalk.
"Lucian!" she managed to force out. "Please don't do that again!"
Lucian, rubbing his arm, set the boy down and let out a deep breath. He took one of her hands. "Okay," he said, "next time I'll just stand by and let the kid get smeared all over the street."
"Piotr! Piotr!" A woman with a frail, careworn face pushed her way through the thick wall of curious onlookers. She dropped to her knees and clasped the boy in her arms. She spoke tearfully to him in what sounded like Czech, or Bulgarian, or some East European language, and burst into tears, hugging him to herself.
Piotr, who had not realized his danger until that moment, started to blubber, clinging tight to his mother's faded calico dress, babbling in baby Czech.
The feeling was starting to come back into Lucian's arm as the reality of what had just occurred caught up with him. Awkwardly, he flexed several times. And regretted it.
I'm gonna need big time Physique when I get home!
Sonja reached out towards the woman. "Here, let me help you," she said gently. The woman grasped Sonja's hand and slowly rose to her feet.
"I don't know what you are or how you did that, but thank you," the woman said to Lucian, still crying softly. "I don't know what I would have done if…" Her voice trailed off, and she clutched her son more closely.
Lucian's voice was husky. "I was happy to do it," he said. "I've always wanted to say 'boo yeah,' too, that was awesome. Boo yeah!"
"What's your name, ma'am?" Sonja asked, offering her a Reese's peanut butter cup (the small kind).
The woman accepted the candy gladly. "I'm Jana Rosický," she replied. "My husband is – well, was – the plumber," Mrs. Rosický began to cry again.
Sonja was surprised. "Is something else wrong?"
The woman hesitated. "I don't want to trouble you with my problems," Jana said, awkwardly. "After all you've done, it wouldn't be right." She turned as if to leave.
"Oh, no, please tell us," Sonja urged. "We just might be able to help."
"I doubt that," the woman said, glumly. "My husband lost his job. That's not much to worry about, since there's plenty of work available for a plumber, but – he got really sick and I don't know what to do."
"There must be something you can get," said Lucian incredulously. The days when he had been just a ragged lycan bum – before Lord Viktor had taken him in – were now so distant that he no longer remembered them clearly. (What does that have to do with anything?)
The woman shook her head. "The only thing we have is what my oldest daughter and I make by sewing, and that's not a whole lot. Sure as heck not enough to make a living with." She looked up, her eyes full of distress. "I have four kids to feed, not to mention my husband, who needs medication and special care. And as if that wasn't bad enough, our slimeball-extortionist of a landlord visited yesterday and told me that if I didn't pay him by the end of the week, he'd kill us all in our beds one by one. So I'm really in a bind."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Sonja, dismayed. "I wish we could give you a housekeeping job, but our only position is already filled by Lucian's great arch-nemesis Amelia."
Lucian growled and swore under his breath; if there was one person who he absolutely hated on the planet, it was Amelia.
Sonja looked unhappy; she was now hellbent on helping this impoverished woman. Yet she was reluctant to offer her money; she knew from experience that it wasn't that simple. Sonja was convinced that Jana Rosický was not trying to swindle them; this woman was in need. But she wasn't about to accept money from a pair of wealthy – and for all Mrs. Rosický knew, snobby – strangers. Suddenly, Sonja remembered. "Lucian," she said quickly, "didn't Amelia disembowel one of the lycanthrope slaves for missing one molecule of dust in her apartment last week?"
Lucian nodded and grimaced. "It took the other slaves the better part of a day to get all the blood mopped up and she's been hounding for a new one ever since."
Sonja turned to the woman. "Are any of your kids old enough to work?"
"I guess so," replied the woman, lifting her son onto her hip. Piotr smiled at Lucian and quickly looked away. "Tomáš is old enough for a slave job. Sure, he has his faults, but I'm sure with the right training he could become a slave. Then again, who the heck wants untrained slaves?" she broke out. "What's the point?"
Sonja threw a glance at Lucian, who gave a quick, imperceptible nod coupled with an approving glance. She turned back to the woman. "Well, that just happens to be exactly what we want," she said eagerly. "At our mansion, we take in kids – be it lycanthrope or vampire, hybrid or human – and train them to be slaves; it's really the best way to obtain loyal and trustworthy workers. So we'd like to hire your son – we'd have to board him at our own house, but his wages would be upwards of fifty euros a week, paid directly to your family."
Mrs. Rosický began to say something, but Sonja rushed on before she could object. "We're the Žewłakows," she blurted, then slapped her forehead, embarrassed. "Let me rephrase that. This is Lucian Žewłakow and I'm Sonja Dumak. Surely you've heard of the Ördögház estate. We live there."
"What? You mean the Ördögház? You want my boy to be a slave there?" Mrs. Rosický was absolutely dumfounded. Ördögház was renowned, in prestigious residences, for its well-trained slaves; in lowly apartments, it was known for its high wages and generous quarters. The one thing that was left out in matters of blab, incredibly, was the fact that many of the slaves – and higher ranked people – were either haughty, resentful, hateful, arrogant, self-centered, insolent, or all of the above and quadrupled.
But still Jana hesitated. "I don't know," she said slowly, "whether Lubos would approve…"
"Is he your husband?" asked Sonja, with a warning glance at Lucian. She knew his limits of patience.
The little boy interrupted them both and gibbered something in baby Czech, with amazing comprehension.
Jana squeezed his hand tightly and swallowed hard, then brought her eyes up to Sonja's. "Okay, I accept. Thank you both," she said emotionally. "You have no idea how much you've done for us."
"No need for thanks, citizen," responded Lucian with a smile, quite relieved that she had FINALLY made up her mind. "We'll run him so ragged he won't have time to think. If he's unsatisfactory as a house slave, I'm sure we could find him some kind of occupation. Do you know the way?"
"Yes, of course. You're so good to us!"
"No, not really," said Sonja. "We need him just as much as you need the job. It takes a lot of people, be it lycanthrope, vampire, hybrid, or human to keep up a big estate like Ördögház. Will you be so kind as to send your son along tomorrow afternoon?"
Mrs. Rosický started to say something, and Sonja hurried on. "As soon as you can spare him, that is. Don't worry about the clothes; we provide uniforms for the slaves, since Viktor prefers strict organization."
"This is just like a dream," Jana cried. "I don't know how to thank you."
Lucian grinned impishly. "You'll probably come to yourself when your family gets his first wages. But here, wait! What the heck am I thinking? Here's a week's pay in advance. Please, take it." He pulled out his wallet and drew out a fifty euro note.
"Oh, wow," said Mrs. Rosický, reaching out with a trembling hand and accepting the money. "Thank you so much!" She laughed; there was a hysterical note to it. "I have to go home now," she said breathlessly; "my husband and kids must know as soon as possible." She picked up Piotr, who wrinkled his nose good-naturedly and clung to her sleeve; Mrs. Rosický turned and ran down the street. She shrunk, getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared into an alley.
Sonja watched her, a look of doubtfulness coming over her face. "Uh, should we have done that, Lucian?" she asked. "I guess I really didn't think. What if her son turns out to be a lazy dumbass??" she said, with increasing uneasiness. "I only saw how unhappy she was and – dang, do you think that was the right thing to do?"
"I've no doubt," Lucian answered reassuringly. "Let's go back to the mansion, I'm freezing my ass off."
Neither of them mentioned the incident again.
They walked back together to the corner where the limousine was parked. Ümit Davala, the chauffeur, exited the driver's seat and opened the doors for them. Lucian let Sonja in first, then took a seat beside her.
"Ümit Davala, back to Ördögház," Lucian said, taking care not to say too much; the chauffeur was from Turkey and knew only enough Hungarian to get by. Lucian, himself, spoke not a word of Turkish.
Ümit started the engine, which was quiet and smooth, turned the heater on and started off down the street at a brisk pace. Looking out the elegant car's windows was like looking at a painting. Of a city, that is; the storefronts, apartment buildings and whatnot, all transformed into… CITY DWELLINGS IN THE WINTER (Dump-da-da-DAH!) by the cold white glop that lay everywhere.
Soon, though, the city melted into a forest, the trees stretching upward to brush the brilliant, white sky. Snow sparkled on the ground, and the trees, swaying in a crisp, bone-chilling breeze, glistened with ice until they looked as if they were carved out of marble. Here and there crows could be seen, flitting from one icy branch to another and cawing. The occasional swarm of starlings could also be glimpsed; their blue-black plummage showed in brilliant contrast against the white snow.
The limousine drove on through the forest. Soon they arrived at a bridge! Isn't that incredible!
As the long car rolled across the bridge, icicles and small bits of hardened snow rained down on the frozen stream, dislodged by the vibrations.
Soon the forest began to thin somewhat, and a gothic estate could be glimpsed through the trees. A stately, dark mansion rose from the ground, surrounded by gardens now in the grip of the icy Hungarian winter; tall hedges and marble paths, slender trees and round ponds, now frozen over so that they looked like glass.
The limousine turned down the lane leading to the mansion and drove through the impressive, ornate steel gate – a signature of Ördögház. A large V, lavishly embellished, was set in the center of the gate; it stood for the name, Viktor.
Ümit slowed the limousine to a stop and stood by the front door. Then he got out and opened the door for his passengers.
Lucian exited the car first; he was followed by Sonja and together they walked up the steps of the mansion. A slave girl, who had been giving her all just to keep the door open, admitted them into the house.
"Well, thanks for coming out with me, Lucian," Sonja said, stepping over the threshold. The girl let the massive door fall shut.
"My pleasure," Lucian replied, "I enjoyed it."
Sonja laughed. "That's great." Off-handedly, she remarked, "We really should hire a doorman. Preferrably one with a barrel chest and huge biceps."
"Oh, why?" Lucian asked, interested.
Sonja explained, "The door is so darn heavy, you practically need to be a He-Man just to get it open an inch."
Lucian looked at her quizzically. "Really? I noticed that girl managed to open it and she sure as heck isn't a He-Man."
Sonja looked slightly irritated. "Okay, let me rephrase that. We should hire a doorman who has a history of working out."
"Yeah, or some hybrid."
Sonja would have said more, but just then a slave materialized to take their wraps and temporarily distracted her. After Lucian had relinquished his coat, he left Sonja, went to the library door and looked in.
"Hm, that's weird," Lucian muttered to himself.
"What's weird?" asked Sonja, who had followed him across the great hall.
"Viktor's not here," he replied. "He must be out."
"Uh, yeah, Lucian. A couple of days ago, he said he was going to Melbourne for an undisclosed reason. Something about that singer Kylie Minogue," said Sonja, gazing dubiously at him.
"Viktor? Kylie? What on earth for?"
"I don't know. I stopped asking questions at 'Kylie Minogue.'"
"Oh, right." Lucian shut the library door. "Well, there are things that I must see to." He started off in the direction of his apartment.
"What things?" Sonja was following him.
He turned and looked at her frankly. "Questions. Questions that need answering!" he said dramatically.
(Beat)
Sonja stared at him, incredulous. She blinked twice. "Cut the Gandalf crap. What things are you talking about?"
"Things like refusing Dominique Ačimovič."
"Oh," said Sonja. "Good luck with that."
"Gee thanks," called Lucian, as he marched up the staircase. "I'll probably need it."