A/N: Sheesh, it sure has been a while. I really need to update these things more often.
Sorry about the wait. Part of it was that I couldn't think of a damn song to go with this chapter. FINALLY, one came to me this morning while I was shuffling about in a tired haze, fetching breakfast for one of the two boys I babysit (but that's an entirely different story). So, without any further ado, I'd like to thank SpeedDemon315, keili77, me12243, and Furionknight for their reviews, and hopefully, their patience.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Underworld. Pity, because the revenue brought in for a series like that by the fan following would be more than enough for my four years of tuition.
"Give me strength to face the truth
The doubt within my soul
No longer I can justify the bloodshed in his name
Is it a sin to seek the truth?
The truth beneath the rose?
Pray with me so I will find the gate to Heaven's door
I believe it would justify the means
It had a hold over me
Blinded to see the cruelty of the beast
Here is the darkest side of me
(Forgive me my sins)
The veil of my dreams deceived all I have seen
Forgive me for what I have been
Forgive me my sins."
-"The Truth Beneath the Rose" by Within Temptation
Chapter Eleven: An Inquiry on History
Tanis lifted the quill from the inkwell and paused, staring down at the blank parchment, excess ink dripping back into the intricate pot that held it. As always, he was struck with that moment of indecision, of uncertainty-and, as always, it struck in the form of how do I begin recording this event?
For tonight, Viktor had charged him with scribing the events of the meeting two nights ago. He intended to do as such-and, having been gifted with an exceptionally good memory and quick note-taking skills, almost every detail of the event was either ingrained in his mind or written down on a spare piece of parchment. His question was how to start it in the seemingly unbiased, yet slightly biased towards the side of whoever had some kind of leverage over him that was almost expected of him.
He murmured under his breath, testing out a few different phrases, before finally settling on one that sounded suitable. Dipping his quill into the ink again, and letting the excess drip off, he put pen to parchment and began to write out the beginning of yet another story that would add to the stories chronicling the long, illustrious history of vampires:
On a pleasant spring evening, the great Lord Viktor, reigning Elder of the coven for this century, called a meeting of some of his chief council, top Death Dealers, including their captain, and two foreign dignitaries; the subject matter of this meeting, however, would serve to spark conflict between the noble Elder and one of his foreign guests.
"Foreign dignitaries? Sounds as though Edward and I have been promoted."
Tanis nearly jumped out of his skin as a woman's voice, steeped in an accent that was a blurred mix of British and Romanian, murmured this phrase into his ear. Turning, he saw Catherine standing behind him, eyeing his writings critically.
He quickly scrambled to his feet, moving in the attempts to cover his writings, a strange mixture of curiosity, fear, and anger stirring up deep in him. While it may have been rue she was only in the antechamber of his vast quarters, she had made it in without alerting him, which unnerved him-but also frustrated him. Tanis had never been one for liking intruders, particularly those who intruded upon him when he was writing.
The vampiress arched one eyebrow. "Trying to hide something?"
"How did you get in here?" he asked, skirting the question.
"You left the door open."
His brow furrowed. "Only a crack and that door squeaks horribly. I should have heard you."
Catherine shrugged. "I guess you just didn't."
He heaved an exasperated sigh. "All right, so you've managed to waltz in here. What do you want?"
"Information." She held up a large book, bound in black leather. One that sent a pang of horrible familiarity through the historian. "I've rather ran into some dead ends when it comes to learning about Lucian."
"And that book didn't help you to find what you needed?" he questioned, the smallest note of slight panic creeping into his voice.
"Well, it might have," she began, depositing the book on the table, "if it weren't for the fact that someone's tampered with this book." Her slender hands lifted the cover back, thumbing through pages and pointing out various pieces of evidence that hinted at someone having tampered with the book. "See? Inked-over passages, water-damaged pages, and-look at this! Several pages torn right out. This book is practically brand-new-matter of fact, the date of completion that was scribed on the inside of the cover was less than seven months ago. If what I've just showed you isn't evidence that someone has been tampering with this book, then I don't know what is."
"Well, there's still plenty of information about werewolves-and Lucian, in particular-in this book," Tanis began, using the opportunity of her distraction to surreptitiously sweep the parchment he'd been writing on into one of the pockets of his voluminous robes. "Even if it's been…edited."
"Most of the information I want to know about the lycan master has been removed."
"Oh."
"You're the one who wrote the book, aren't you?"
He turned back around, raising a brow as Catherine closed the book and hefted it into his arms. "Pardon?"
"I would presume you're A.H. Tanis?" She tapped the name embossed on the cover in gold.
"Well, yes."
"And thus, you're the author."
"Of course."
"So, presumably, you would have the original papers that contain all the information that was included in this book."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you getting at?"
"I would like to see the original documents."
"No." He turned back around, closing up the bottle of ink and preparing to retreat into his inner sanctum, hoping that Catherine would leave. She started walking, but in the opposite direction as that he'd hoped she would go. She leaned against the table, her eyes boring into Tanis.
"You know, I'm not going to leave until I get some straight answers," she informed him, her voice dangerously soft. "I asked Selene for the story, but she only knows so much. I asked Kraven for the story, and he was evasive at best. I tried getting a story from this book, but it's been edited so much that most of the information beyond Lucian being a lycan and being dead is gone. You're the only one who has the whole truth in your possession, and I'm not leaving until I can, at least, see the documents."
The historian remained stubbornly silent. After a moment, he heard something being slipped out of a sheath. Looking up, he saw Catherine holding a long, sharp dagger by its polished hilt.
"We can do this the easy way," she began. "Or I can make my persuasion a little less friendly. Take your pick."
Tanis eyed the dagger with apprehension. "You're not going to leave until you get what you want, are you?"
She nodded, polishing a smudge on the blade with a section of her shirt. "I'm kind of stubborn like that."
With a sigh, Tanis straightened his robes and headed towards a door on the far wall of the room. He paused, hand on the door's knob, and glanced over his shoulder. Catherine was still standing at the table, dagger in hand, brows raised slightly, waiting for his response. Finally, he gave a defeated sigh. "Come with me."
She grinned, returning her weapon to its sheath. "Thank you very much."
As soon as she had joined him, he twisted the knob, slowly opening the heavy oak door that guarded his lavish chambers.
And lavish they were! The room beyond was vast; its main feature was an enormous four-poster bed, draped in rich black hangings that matched the drapes flanking the frosted windows. A plush Oriental rug covered a large portion of the stone floor, while colorful, intricately-woven tapestries that depicted scenes of days gone past added a cheery-and luxurious-touch to the bare stone walls. Several mahogany bookcases lingered in little niches around the room, packed full of thick, leather-bound volumes. A cushy, opulent chair was nestled in a corner not occupied by bookcases, its cushions haphazardly scattered. The pillows and blankets of the bed were in likewise disarray; several candles cast flickering pools of light over the room, while the heady scent of incense and rose perfumed the air.
"Terribly sorry about the mess," Tanis apologized, moving to straighten up the cushions of the chair. "I wasn't expecting company."
Catherine peered around the room, scrutinizing the historian's taste in decorating. "Quite lavish-particularly for a humble historian."
"A lot of these, I acquired in my travels." He took a bottle of wine from a small table draped in crimson cloth and uncorked it, pouring some into a glass. "And Viktor allowed me to have some pieces from his personal collection. He also pays reasonably well." Turning around, he held up the bottle of wine, a strange sort of gleam in his eyes-anxious, almost madly hopeful. "Can I tempt you?"
"Not, not right now." Her sapphire gaze came to rest on the bookshelves, particularly the section where the ends of scrolls peeped out. "Are those it?"
"Those are-at least, for this decade."
Catherine's brow furrowed. "What about the previous decades?"
"Already bound into books." The historian gestured to one of the vast bookcases, loaded with expensive-looking leather-bound books. "The scrolls are stored elsewhere for safekeeping, and, at present, I have the books in my room, available upon request."
"Why are those books only available at request, while this one is left in the library for anyone to take of their free will?"
"It's a matter of need-to-know information. Lord Viktor greatly emphasizes moving forward, instead of staying in the past." Tanis glanced at the book in Catherine's arms. "At the end of this year, that book will be removed from the library and stored elsewhere, so that we may move on from the past."
"I see." The lilting suspicion in her voice told Tanis she didn't really buy what she was hearing. "Now, if I was looking for the scroll you scribed about Sonja's death, where would I find it?"
He almost didn't answer that question, until he saw the vampiress loosen her grip on the book she held, ready to move for the dagger she'd tucked back into her belt. When she did that, he stooped instantly, running his fingers over a roll of scrolls until he came across the desired one. He pulled that one from its slot, wiping a thin layer of dust from it, before handing it to Catherine, plucking the thick black book out of her arms as he did so. "You would find it here, in your hands."
Her eyes dropped to the scroll, and she unfurled it. Rapidly, her sapphire orbs flittered back and forth across the page, and her lips silently mouthed the words. After a few moments, she lowered it, her attention now back on Tanis.
"So, Lucian did kill Sonja?"
Tanis nodded. "It can be presumed. Her body-or what was left of it-bore signs of being ravaged by a lycan, and it smelled strongly of Lucian."
Catherine shook her head, rolling the scroll back up and handing it to its owner. "It doesn't make any sense, though. Every account I've read and heard said that, despite the fact they were of different species and different castes, they truly loved each other. And yet, he killed her. I mean, it doesn't make the faintest bit of sense! How can you fake such love…such devotion? You just-you can't!"
"Clearly, Lucian found a way to," Tanis remarked lightly.
"Something's amiss." She sighed. "Do you have the scroll on the siege of Lucian's manor and the fall of his army?"
"I do-that was quite recent, less than a year ago." Returning the first scroll to its proper place, he then plucked a new scroll out of a different niche, placing it in the woman's pale hand. "Here you go."
Again, she unfurled it and started reading, leaning gently against the four-poster bed. As she read, Tanis furtively fixed the mussed cushions of the chair, and pulled the covers up on his bed, smoothing the wrinkles, trying to make it appear what had happened had, in fact, not happened. When he discovered a rumpled and discarded petticoat, courtesy of his companion from the night before, he discretely kicked it under the bed, wincing every time the crinolines made the slightest whisper. Once the undergarment was well-concealed by shadows, he polished off his glass of wine, refilled it, and started in on that one, working to quell the rising tide of embarrassment at having women's underclothes left in his bedroom.
Finally, Catherine rolled up the parchment with a disheartened sigh. "Are you sure Kraven was the only survivor of this? There's no one else who could have given an account?"
"Unless some unaccounted soldiers deserted and became rogues, or turned traitor and joined the lycans, then yes, Kraven is the sole survivor."
"Fantastic. Just bloody fantastic." She all but shoved the scroll into Tanis's hands, her face twisted into an uncharacteristic scowl.
"Why don't you trust Kraven's word?"
"Can you really trust a man whose name is synonymous with 'coward'?" She gave a smirk, but it quickly vanished. "I just-I don't feel that his word is reliable. Too many holes in the stories, too many what-ifs that have yet to be satisfied." She crossed her arms. "Hmm."
"Something wrong, Lady Catherine?"
"Please, please, just Catherine," she requested. "And…no. Never mind. It's not important." Her hands moved to her temples, fingers gently kneading, as if she was trying to alleviate a migraine.
"Are you all right?"
"My head is pounding, but that's come to be rather normal as of late."
"Perhaps you should get some rest. I think it would do you some good."
"That's not a bad idea. I do believe I've gotten everything I need to know, so no sense in staying here and continuing to get in your hair." She gave a brief yawn, then pivoted on her heel, heading towards the door. "Thank you for your assistance."
"You're quite welcome."
Right before she reached the door, she stopped, turning back around. "Oh, Andreas, I-"
"Please," he quickly interrupted. "I prefer to be known by my surname."
"All right, then. Tanis, I have one last question. How exactly was Lucian killed?"
"By his account, Kraven carved the cur's heart out, lit it on fire, and tossed it into a tapestry, thus causing the Great Blaze." Tanis's brow furrowed. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, merely curious." There was a delighted little twinkle in her eye that said otherwise, that there were deeper, possibly more devious reasons why she wanted the answer to that question. For the moment, Tanis let it go. "Thank you, once more. Good day."
She pulled the door open, then departed, leaving Tanis in the middle of his empty bedroom, turning the scroll over in his hands. Once he had heard Catherine leave through the outside door and head off down the corridor, he placed the scroll on a nearby table, then crossed the room to a navy tapestry in between two bookcases. Brushing it aside, he revealed a small niche carved into the wall. A single scroll, dusty and slightly yellow with age, rested there; Tanis took this with careful, almost reverent hands, all the while keeping a careful eye and ear out, making sure no one was approaching.
Even though he had ordered it all scribed, Viktor had ordered Tanis to destroy this particular scroll over a year ago now; the scroll that documented the whole dark, dirty ordeal that had been Sonja's death. Merely having the scroll in his possession was enough to certainly put his job at stake, and possibly put his head on the metaphorical chopping block.
As far as Viktor was concerned, the whole nasty business of his daughter's death had never happened. Sonja had been an innocent, brainwashed, tainted, and subsequently destroyed by a wolf in sheep's clothing.
But, as much as he tried to ignore the feeling, every day he kept this truth hidden from those who didn't already know it, guilt ate at Tanis. His job was to record history as it happened, unbiased and uncensored, and he knew it. He hated the lying, the covering up-and he especially hated it now that little holes were starting to be chewed in the carefully-crafted cover story.
At the same time, though, he knew what revealing the truth meant. For something like that, death was certainly an option, particularly in the eyes of Viktor of Moldova, the warlord who was as vicious and ruthless in immortality as he was in life. At the very least, he would be exiled. A somewhat selfish man at heart, Tanis enjoyed living, and he greatly enjoyed the lifestyle he had at the Ordoghaz coven.
"Maybe one day," he murmured, returning the scroll to its place and hiding it once more. "Maybe one day."
