A/N -- So, as you may have guessed, I'm feeling super-guilty about the fact that I promise I'd have something up last week, and then it never happened. Vacation turned out to be more chaotic than I had imagined it would be. But I finally finished the chapter, and chapter five is already almost done, so it should be up fairly soon. Certainly by next weekend at the latest. Anyway, I hope the chapter's okay!
Lord Downey was having a truly splendid afternoon. Tea was marvelous, he'd single-handedly procured more than a half dozen contracts since noon, and he was even feeling light-hearted enough to appreciate the gorgeous weather of early spring that could be seen outside the windows of his elaborate office. Unfortunately, his good mood was about to come crashing down around him.
As he sat down at his desk, he began to look over some very official and very confidential paperwork. There was a light tap on the door.
"Yes, come in," Lord Downey called distractedly. The door creaked open and he looked up to see a small head poking in. "What is it?"
"Your appointment is here, Lord." the diminutive servant answered.
"Appointment? I haven't got any appointments for the next hour. Who...?" but the servant had already left, the door had closed and now a new voice was speaking on the other side of the room.
"Long time, no see, Lord Downey!"
If the head of the Guild of Assassins had been a man prone to displaying emotions on his face, this is where his jaw would have dropped. As it was, he simply stared. Stared at a man with perfect, blond curls, mismatched eyes, and a smile that would make the strongest, most impressive men feel queasy.
"Mr. Teatime," he said after a long moment of stunned silence, during which the visitor simple beamed at him. His voice was soft, but at least he had managed to keep the shake out of it. "What a... pleasant surprise." He paused another moment. Then, "You died."
Teatime frowned. "You know people keep telling me that, as though they think I don't already know." he shook his head, then turned away from Downey and stepped over to a large bookshelf and carefully inspected the variety of trinkets that sat on it. He continued to speak, not bothering to elaborate on his return from the grave. "I realize things went a bit south on my last contract, but I was rather hoping you still had room for me, here at the Guild?"
"Certainly not!" Downey said. In his state of dazed shock, he had been only half-listening as the Assassin spoke to him, but the outlandish suggestion at the end jarred him back to reality.
This was not the answer Teatime had expected. He turned back to the Guild Master, concern in his eyes. "Pardon me?" he asked, his voice sharp.
"Surely you can't imagine we would still consider allowing you membership after the God-awful mess you made on Hogswatch Night!" Lord Downey had stood up and crossed to Teatime. Had Teatime not ended up dead of his own accord after Hogswatch, Downey had had every intention of seeing to it that he be killed by their own people. Downey still had the same plan in mind.
However... Downey thought, he is a gifted Assassin. If he came back from the dead once, who's to say he wouldn't do it again?
Lost in contradictory thoughts, Downey just stared at Teatime, and Teatime stared determinedly back.
"Give me one contract." Teatime said, very business-like. "One contract, and if I don't handle it with the utmost grace and elegance, you have every right to turn me away."
Lord Downey looked back and forth between Teatime's eyes. They gave you a very startling sensation. You could look at one and think it horrible and disturbing and that nothing could compare to its eeriness. And then you'd look at the other and sure enough it would be more unsettling still and that no eye could be more sinister. And then you'd look at the first again, and it would be more dreadful than you'd even remembered, and so on.
"One contract." Downey said through his teeth after a long while. "One contract, and if it doesn't meet my every level of expectation, you will be gone."
Teatime smiled once again, very suddenly, as though the tension had been sapped from the room.
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "So, who is the lucky soul?"
Some were more difficult to convince than others, but Deirdre found that nine times out of ten, gaining a contract was easy as pie. After that first evening with Mr. Rocha, who fell victim easily to her convincing arguments and securing her first client, she had made a habit of frequenting the alley behind the Assassin's Guild. She had been amazed to find how timid most of them were, after coming from their meetings with Lord Downey. Most were so far out of their element, they would listen to every word that came out of her mouth, too terrified to voice an opinion. It almost sickened her. But it was an advantage, and she didn't complain.
In a month and a half, she'd inhumed at least one individual a week, and it was getting easier all the time. She covered her tracks, but she was sure it was only a matter of time until the Guild finally caught on to her operation. But she would deal with that when the time came. For now, she was unstoppable.
"GRANDFATHER!" Susan Sto-Helit called angrily. Her voice echoed through the cavernous halls of Death's home, but it was not quite right. The word came backwards "REHTAFDNARG!" He had never quite gotten the concept of echoes. Susan ignored it, and walked toward the kitchens, where she found Albert washing dishes in the sink. He looked up and smiled at her.
"Thought that was you I heard shrieking." he said cheerily. She opened her mouth, but he answered before she could ask: "He's out. On business, if you know what I mean."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Albert, I think we're a bit beyond insinuation in this family. You can just say so if he's out taking souls..." She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, chewing on her lip. "Damn..." she said softly. "I really wanted to see him."
"Oh, yeah?" asked Albert, grinning. "Finally starting to feel some affinity for the family, are you?"
Susan grimaced at the butler. "Pardon me: I needed to see him.Business, if you know what I mean." she said acidly.
"Business, eh? You aren't thinking of joining up with the family establishment for good?"
"No." she said forcefully. "It's not that, Albert. I..." she hesitated. "Teatime's come back, and I thought Grandfather ought to know so he can sort it out."
"Ohhhh, of course. That whole Teatime nonsense..."
Susan raised her eyebrows. "You know about this?" she asked sharply. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Oh, I don't know." said Albert, now getting offensive himself. "It only just happened. Haven't had the time. And besides that... It's kind of your fault."
"My fault?" Susan shrieked. "How can this possibly be my fault?"
"I'm not saying it was intentional or anything! You didn't know. These things happen..."
"Albert. What didn't I know?" she asked, stepping closer to him.
"Something about loopholes and how Death is only supposed to take souls," Albert tried to explain, "and since you are Death, to a certain degree, that means you can only take souls too. No killing people and whatnot. The Gods got all in a huff about it."
"But he's evil! He must have killed several dozen people. Surely he deserved to die?"
"Yeah, well the Gods are sadists, aren't they?" Albert said. "Whether or not he deserved it hasn't got a whole lot to do with the rules. Anyway, the point is, he's back, and you can't go tryin' to kill him again, alright?"
Steaming, Susan stormed from the room without another word, and left the home of Death.