Author's Note:

Hello again, dear readers. It took me a little while to get this chapter done. I apologize for that. Busy nights and all that jazz. But I should have another two or three chapters up tonight. So please review and enjoy to your heart's content. So without any further adieu, I do not own the Lords of the Underworld series or any of it's characters. Please enjoy.

Chapter 3 Deal With Death

MORNING FOUND MADDOX in his usual sour mood. In the course of the first hour after awaking in his newly healed body, Maddox had put three holes in a wall, giving Aeron more to clean and his own self more to repair. Paris had checked in on Isolde that morning to find the girl still asleep. He had left her alone and returned to entertainment room where Lucien had something to tell them all. What he had to tell them surprised them all.

"She said what?" Maddox asked.

"She would not give me any more information then that. She claimed that it would effect the flow of events and that that could be disastrous for the outcome she knows." Lucien explained.

"Depending on what this price is, it's a good thing. Right?" Paris asked.

"Potentiality." Reyes agreed.

"She didn't say when?" Maddox asked.

Lucien shook his head.

"She only said that it would be soon." Lucien told them.

"She does not seem to be the type to tell if she believes it will not end well." Torin remarked from his corner.

"We will find out." Lucien said.

"In the mean time, how did it go getting her to agree to wear the clothes?" Paris asked.

Lucien heaved a sigh, leaning back in his seat, nursing a glass of ambrosia laced whiskey in his hands.

"She would prefer to continue wearing Reyes' shirt then to accept the clothing we have given her." Lucien told them.

"Why?" Paris asked, his eyes glued to the screen where a flesh fest played.

"She said to start accepting things now would make her a burden or a leech and she does not wish to be either." Lucien replied.

"That's ridiculous." Maddox growled, pocketing another ball and straightening to let Aeron take his shot.

"Maybe to you."

All six men whipped around. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and a hip propped against the door jam, was Isolde. Paris, when he realized who it was, hit pause on his movie. Her eyes were scanning the room, taking it in. She was still barefoot, still wearing nothing by the over sized, black T-shirt.

"Just as I remembered. All red furniture." she mused, looking around.

"How did you get out of your room!?" Aeron asked.

"You'd be surprised what someone can use to pick a lock. You should really consider updating the locks on your doors. The tumble systems are far to easy to trigger." Isolde replied.

"You didn't try to escape?" Paris asked.

"I told you, there's no point in it. Even if Torin isn't in his room watching his monitors, I still wouldn't have gotten half way down the hill before you caught me. I know, roughly, where all the traps on the hill are, but it would still be slow going for me. You would fly through it in a breeze. Fly in a literal sense for Aeron. No point in trying just to anger the six of you." she replied.

Finally her eyes locked in on the six warriors. She tilted her head to the side, watching them. None of them moved from their spots and she didn't move from hers.

"Or are you angry with me now? Its not like I went through any of your things. I just don't like being confined to a single room and I finished all the books, Paris gave me, so I was bored." she told them.

"Already? I gave you fifteen." Paris said in disbelief.

"I'm a fast reader."

Silence followed by stares. It seemed that that was all she got from them. Apparently they had never had to deal with someone like her in all of their long centuries. It was both a good thing and a bad. Good in the sense that she could keep them off guard simply because they had no idea how to handle her, bad in the sense that it might set them off easier.

"Look, I'm a working girl. I work my days in and days out with only four hours of sleep in between. If I don't have something to do, I get jittery. If I'm going to be stuck here, at least give me some work to do. You could use a feminine touch around this place instead of leaving all of the cleaning up to poor Aeron." she told them.

"Work? You want to clean, and cook, and do all the womanly chores of the house?" Paris asked, a grin on his face.

"Now hold on a second. Men can do all the same chores as women and the same vise versa. For you information I can do carpentry and electrical wiring too. But I absolutely won't do laundry, simply because I will not handle your underwear. For those of you who actually wear it." Isolde said, her eyes fixing on Paris with the last comment.

Paris' grin grew. The girl was pleading the case that men and women were equal in every way. And only to turn around and tell them that she wouldn't be touching their laundry. That handling their underwear was a step too far for her. Lucien eyed her for a long moment. Obviously, locking her back in her room would be a waste of time. She would just pick the lock again the moment she was bored. By letting her to work around the fortress it would keep her busy and, if Lucien played it right, he could get her to accept things from them.

"Let us make a deal, Isolde." Lucien said.

Isolde raised an eyebrow, a suspicious look crossing her face as she eyed him. Her eyes narrowed as her head rocked back so she was looking down her nose at him. She wasn't an idiot. She could see the gears turning in his head, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"I'm listening." she agreed.

"We will give you work to do around the fortress, as long as it is inside the fortress. In exchange you must accept anything we give you. As a form of payment." Lucien told her.

Isolde's mouth twisted as she considered this. Lucien had just played a card she couldn't trump. That didn't stop her from trying though. She ran thought after thought through her head, tried her damnest, but couldn't come up with anything. Finally her nose wrinkled and she looked like she was about to curse darkly. Instead she huffed.

"Damn, you're a clever man." she conceded finally.

Lucien bowed his head in acknowledgement. Unless she flat out refused, which would end her locked back up, she had no other way out of it. She would have to agree if she wanted freedom to roam and something to do.

"Fine, I agree. But I reserve the right to refuse something I believe is too much." she said finally.

"You may reserve the right to argue the case." Lucien told her.

Isolde heaved a sigh, leaning heavily against the door jam.

"And who, pray tell, is going to be the third party who choice who is the winner in those arguments?" she asked.

"The others here." Lucien told her.

"No fair! They will side with you every time! I will never win a single one. It would be favoritism in it's purest form." Isolde argued.

"That would be the point." Lucien admitted.

A frown tugged down the corners of her mouth. She was close to a pout, but reigned herself in before she could.

"Cheeky bastard." she muttered. "I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?"

Lucien shook his head. For a moment, Isolde's eyes went to ceiling as if she was praying to the gods, before she heaved a sigh.

"Fine. But I want to be able to pick my own room and have the right to decorate it as I please." she said.

"Go shower and change and you have a deal." Lucien told her.

Isolde pushed herself off the door jam, arms still crossed over her chest.

"Alright, but I'm not giving back this shirt." she retorted before turning on her heels and walking away. Paris and Torin both were chuckling by this point, completely amused by the little girl that had become their new house mate.

"That was my shirt, was it not?" Reyes asked.

"It was. She said last night that it was comfortable to sleep in." Lucien replied.

Aeron sat down his pool stick and turned on Lucien.

"Do you really think that this is the best idea?" Aeron asked.

"Torin can watch her, but if it will keep her preoccupied, then I do not see why not." Lucien replied.

"She could be Bait." Aeron said.

"If so, she would not have let us know she could escape the room. She would have done so while we slept." Lucien replied.

Seeing reason in that Aeron conceded, grumbling to himself.

"Look at it this way. You now have a little housekeeping helper." Paris told Aeron, who shot him a glare.

They all knew that Aeron didn't like the fact that he had been stuck with housekeeping. To have a female helper, he should have been glad.

"We will just keep a close eye on her." Lucien said.

They left it at that and returned to what they were doing. An hour later, Isolde stepped back into the room, newly showered and wearing the clothes they had bought for her. Paris hit pause on his movie again, all six males turning to look at her. The clothes fit her perfectly and she had paired it with the green gloves. Her hair was pulled back and tied at her nape with a black ribbon and looked silky and soft after the shower.

"Do you know that your fridge is next to empty?" she asked the moment she stepped into the room.

All eyes turned to Paris.

"I...got busy and forgot to get groceries yesterday." he said.

"Gee, I wonder what could have diverted your attention." Isolde said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"Why were you in the kitchen anyway?" Paris asked.

"I was looking to see what you had, to see what I could possibly cook." she replied.

All six turned to look at her at that. Isolde raised an eyebrow when she saw those looks on their faces.

"What's with the looks?" she asked.

"You can cook?" Reyes asked.

"I'm a twenty year old woman who has lived alone since she was eleven and my former job was a cook for a four star restaurant. Yeah, I can cook. Why?" she asked.

"That's great. You get to cook dinner then." Paris said, leaning back in his seat.

"Cook for six, hulking men who have the metabolism of five years olds. Lovely. Sounds like a fun time." Isolde replied.

Once again sarcasm leaked from her words. Paris raised an eyebrow at her, silently asking her what was with the sarcasm. Isolde didn't even pretend to misunderstand what the look meant.

"Sarcasm is second nature to me. Its either that or snark and cursing. Believe me, you don't want to see the latter. Its more laughable then anything else." she replied.

Isolde peered over at the pool table where Maddox was debating what shot to take next. She eyed the balls as she walked up to the table.

"Bounce the nine ball off the side there and you'll sink the five ball in the corner pocket." she told Maddox.

Maddox looked up at her, but didn't question it. He angled the pool stick, hitting the ball as she had told him. Sure enough the nine ball bounced off where she had suggested and sunk the five ball in the corner pocket. Aeron frowned as a grin spread across Maddox's face.

"I can point one out for you too if you want." Isolde offered Aeron.

"No." Maddox said instantly.

He pulled Isolde to his side of the pool table and gave Aeron a pointed look. The two got into an argument about fairness while Isolde shook her head and slipped away from them. It was then her eyes snagged on the TV. Isolde came to a halt, looking up at the screen. Paris instantly switched the screen off and Isolde raised an eyebrow at him.

"You really think of me as a child, don't you?" she asked Paris, who shrugged. "I've seen dirtier things then that living with my last roommate."

Paris shrugged once again, flipped the TV back on, and hit play. Isolde rolled her eyes as she perched herself on the arm of Lucien's chair. The man let her, simply moving his arm out of the way for her. Torin looked her over with a smile on his face and a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"I'm glad to see the clothes look good on you." he said.

"Yeah, I'm not even going to bother asking how you knew my sizes. Though I have to ask why you have to pick something that matches my eyes in color." Isolde said.

Torin raised a question brow, confusion in his eyes. Paris piped in then.

"No, actually that part was my choice." he said.

"I should have known. Well for future reference, I'm not particularly fond of skirts, I won't do heels unless their wedges, and while I like lace, I don't like it in underwear. Thanks Paris, but no thanks. And nothing pink or yellow." Isolde said.

Maddox, Aeron, and Reyes all stopped what they were doing and looked from Isolde to Paris at the mention of lace and the impression that Paris had bought her lacy underwear. Paris simply grinned, his eyes glued to the TV.

"But back to the original subject. If you want me to cook, Paris, you have to get up and go buy food." Isolde said.

Paris obviously didn't take the hint and continued staring at the TV screen. Isolde rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, as if praying for patience or maybe even a bolt of lightning to jolt him into gear. Finally she fixed her eyes back on Paris, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly over her knee.

"You know its a holiday weekend in the States and Budapest happens to be one of the top vacation spots for Americans. More then likely the town will be crawling new, beautiful women right about now." Isolde said.

Paris was on his feet instantly and heading for the doorway.

"I'm going shopping." he called over his shoulder.

And then he was gone. Isolde grinned to herself in victory as the others looked at her. Isolde gave them a wink.

"Hey, at least he gets both sources of food that he needs." she remarked before hopping off the arm of the chair.

"Is it really a holiday weekend in the States?" Torin asked.

"Last I checked, yes." she replied.

"Speaking of which, what are you? Nationality speaking." Reyes asked.

"What do I look like to you?" Isolde replied.

"American?" Reyes asked looking her over.

"No."

"You speak Hungarian perfectly, but you are not Hungarian, are you?" Maddox asked.

"I speak a lot of languages perfectly. Doesn't make me of that nationality. So no, not Hungarian." Isolde replied.

"A mix." Aeron stated.

"True but its not so many I can't keep track." Isolde replied.

"Amorette suggest French." Lucien said.

"Correct. My father was part French."

"High cheek bones, straight and proud nose. Native American?" Torin guessed.

"Correct again. Both of my parents had Native American in them."

"You would not be able to guess with eyes color." Maddox remarked.

"Yeah, I have no idea where my eye color came from. Every picture of my family I saw showed green and brown eyes." Isolde said.

"Your hair was obvious pale at one time...Russian?" Lucien asked.

"No. Actually my hair was white when I was born and that came from my mother. Ironically she came dark haired people." Isolde answered.

"Then just tell us." Aeron said.

"My father was Native American, Irish, and French. My mother was Native American, Australian, and Greek." she answered.

The remaining five men gave her a slow once over as if they were trying to peg the features in her that belong to each of the lineages she had listed. Eyes lingered in places they shouldn't for so long that Isolde rolled her eyes. She put her hands on her hips.

"Eyes are up here, fellas." she told him, pointing at her eyes.

Five pairs of eyes snapped up to her eyes and she shook her head again.

"That tells us what you are but not from where." Reyes said.

"I was born in my paternal grandmother's homeland, Ireland, was raised from two years old until six in my maternal grandfather's homeland, Greece, and was left in Australia from six to seventeen. At the age seventeen I moved to the States." Isolde replied.

"Left?" Torin asked.

"You know you could also use black for furniture too. Blood wouldn't show up on that." Isolde remarked, ignoring the question as she looked around the room.

She was obviously avoiding the question, acting as if she hadn't heard what Torin had just said. Aside from the topic of the future and what she knew about their's, Isolde had yet to refuse a topic of conversation. That she was refusing this one told them that this one was an uncomfortable one for her. Or at least not one she wanted to get into.

"Isolde-"

"Forget I said anything. Its not something I want to discuss. Ever." Isolde said, cutting off Maddox.

"Why?" Reyes asked.

Isolde was wandering around the room now, picking things up, looking at them, and setting them back where they belonged.

"Because I don't need more pity." she replied, picking of something that looked like a bejeweled urn, turning it in her hands.

"I've already had enough of that to last me twenty life times." she added, setting the urn back on it's shelf.

With that she walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Aeron asked.

"The kitchen. There were dishes in the sink. Might as well do something productive." Isolde replied over her shoulder before vanishing around the corner.

Isolde knew an awful lot about them. She hadn't yet shared how or why she knew what she knew, but that didn't change the knowledge she had. Yet when it came to her own life, she didn't want anyone knowing the details. Or anything for that matter. Her past was completely off limits. Just what it was in her past that she didn't want brought to life, they didn't know.

But one day they would find out.

END