"You mock me child?" Death smiled "Perhaps Lucien we have been to kind. Take her to a cell, let her think about what she's done. Contemplate the whole situation." He smirked. "Such a shame," he tutted. "Should have gone when you had the chance Miss Eaves." Cold hands grasped either side of her arm yanking her along a path. Snow settled framing Lucien's outline in bright white as he stomped along the path swinging his sword from side to side, beheading roses and thorn trees. Up ahead lay a small crooked cottage with slate roof tiles and sand stone bricks. Puffs of smoke spilled out over the chimney and clouded the night sky. Lucien opened the door and turned to look at her in disbelief, "this is how you imagine my grandfather's house to be?" He sighed and jammed open the door with his foot. The two guards behind her shoved her into the house, saluted and departed in quick succession leaving Lissi alone with Lucien who was now heading down a damp corridor which smelled distinctly of rotting flesh and rats. She called out to him, "how does the house know what to look like for each visitor? Surely the guards each imagine something different themselves, even you, you must imagine something!" Lucien turned to face her sword now sheathed he looked less menacing and more handsome than she remembered. "You think we allow the guards imagination? NO! We programme them to follow a set pattern with each visitor and that's all they do, they wait in the shadows like me, only I," he pulled himself up straighter "have more important jobs." The smugness in his voice was so pronounced she wanted to slap him. "In answer to your question Death made this house therefore it has a little piece of everyone's soul locked away within it so he has no trouble finding it. Besides," He shrugged. "Dead bodies smell an awful lot, they never escape notice for long." He smiled triumphantly showing glistening white teeth, as though this piece of information was some kind of jewel. The smile faded when she didn't praise him, as though a mask had been returned because she didn't encourage the change of character. "This way" he commanded taking her hand and leading her down a corridor. He opened a door to the right and pushed her into it, closing it sharply behind them. "You'll stay here until," his face twisted, "until I come to fetch you." He handed her a candle and left the room locking it behind him.
The room was bigger than she had expected with a wrought iron bed and faded grey covers. There was a small bathroom off to the left with a shower, sink and toilet but no bath. Apart from the bed the room was empty and drab with no windows so that shadows danced and flickered around her as she gauged some sense of direction. It made Lissi shiver to think who else had been in here, maybe someone had died here, maybe someone had been kept here for years without light. Had the covers been washed? The thought popped into her head making her smile, through all of this there was still that little part of her that was obsessed with the mundane aspects of the situation. She reached out a hand and ran her fingers along the covers. They were rough and scratchy but they looked clean enough. Cautiously she lay down thinking, how she was going to get out of this mess and would she still be the same at the end of it, alive even because if people could die of boredom then she wouldn't last long.
Sleep came easily, she hadn't closed her eyes for more than a second in over two days and it enveloped her in darkness and warmth like an old friend. She woke to find the candle had been replaced. There was a note on the floor beside a dress. In a red scrawl that looked suspiciously like blood someone had written put this on you will be collected in one hour. Make sure you're ready. The candle had only been burning for about ten minutes so she had plenty of time to have a wash before she put the garment on. The water from the shower was cold and she shivered as she wrapped herself in a thin grey towel and sat on the bed to dry her hair. Sharp raps on the door made her jump and hug the towel close. Lucien entered the room looking even better than he did earlier making her stomach jolt uncomfortably. "You're not ready!" he snapped "Put it on now!" he snatched up the dress and threw it at her. "Not while you're here" she said pulling the towel tighter around herself. He sighed and turned around. "Best I can do" he growled "Now hurry up." She grabbed her underwear and dress and threw them on tugging them over her wet legs and pulling the corset back tight. "Ready" she squeaked pushing her feet into the already wet heels and yelping as they grazed over the blisters that had appeared on her ankles. He turned and looked at her then grabbed her hand and jerked her out of the door. She didn't much care for the dress she was wearing. It was black as night matching the puff shirt and trousers that Lucien wore and it drained her already pale face of all colour, although the light here was so dim no-one would be able to see that anyway. They rounded a bend and came up against a large black door. "Listen," Lucien had turned to her "This is my party so you will do as you are told. No heroine attitude and if anyone asks you are my fiancée." He held up a hand to silence her as she opened her mouth to protest. "No questions, now take my arm" She scowled slipping her arm through his as the doors began to open. "Smile!" He hissed and began to lead her through them, it was a ball she realised, but everyone was dressed in grey except them and Death who was suddenly to the right of her with a small smile playing upon his face. "To Lucien," his voice hissed above the murmuring crowd "and his dear Larissa!" The people cheered and raised silver goblets to their masks drinking deeply and smashing them upon the floor as they finished. Red and silver littered the path in front of her and Lucien now and as if satisfied by this action drew her forward took her hand and faced it palm upwards. Doing the same himself he took a small dagger from the belt of his trousers and cut down the centre of their palms. She gasped and made to snatch her hand away but one look from Lucien told her she wouldn't live a moment longer if she did. The small cut stung and tears slid from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. Death took both of their cut hands and held them up for the crowd to see, and then he pressed them together so that their blood mixed as it ran down their arms "Immortal souls" he rasped "at death do they part". Then he let them go and Lucien, replacing his dagger with his free hand, led her slowly over the smashed silver and onto the centre of the floor. "What is this?" she whimpered almost crying out as he took her waste. He looked up at her momentarily surprised. "A celebration," he smiled, "nothing more, nothing less." A slow droning music began to fill the room and couples joined them on the floor slowly dancing in rhythm. "Were supposed to dance" He smirked guiding her in a rhythmic pattern between the masked people. "That's what people do at parties don't they?" He smirked and pulled her waist slightly closer; she wrenched herself backwards and out of his grasp. "What is going on? This isn't just a party, there aren't many I have been to that mix peoples blood unless its some new way of taking drugs, so stop lying to me and tell me what is really happening or ill make sure this becomes very awkward!" Lucien's smile faded and turned into an angry glare.