NOTE: Chapter 9 has been re-written, if you haven't read it yet please do so now and read the note on the beginning. Thank you.
Another chapter that I don't particularly like but I know when I'm stuck and can't make it any better, so I decided it was time to get it out of my system already. As usual, I'll elaborate in the end.
The train proceeds in its monochord march along the tracks, doing a remarkable job of lulling the passengers to sleep as a forlorn Britain is gradually left behind. Not that anyone takes notice of the ever-growing distance. The concrete walls of the tunnel are successful in shutting out the entire outside world, giving the whole trip a surreal feeling of programmed artificiality.
Still, Lara is sure it is raining outside. It was back at Dover when they left, at least. She is bitterly reminded of her baby, standing defenceless in the station's rain, subject of covet by random street punks, burglars and all sorts of scum… She really wishes Trent had told her about this tiny detail of the trip before she had picked the McLaren of all cars. She wishes even more that her brain hadn't been so drunk that it hadn't made the connections: Prague, take the train, go through France… a plane would take too long to arrange, the Cabal would be on them in minutes…
She sighs in frustration. Maybe she should phone Winston to go pick up the car… Maybe she should have already phoned him to explain where she is… Maybe she should go to the bar, drag Trent away from his flirtatious endeavour with the bartender, force him to sit down on the compartment and explain once and for all exactly what his insane plan is. Maybe she doesn't even want to know.
It never really ends, does it?
A relatively peaceful interlude of four months, just about long enough to give the blissful illusion that one might actually indulge the rest of their days in tranquillity… and then 'bang', back at it, as if waking up from a dream, straight into the arms of that bitch that is reality.
She is hardly even surprised anymore, why bother?
It is raining. She is sure of it. In her eyes, night time France wouldn't feel right without rain. Or without armed policemen and angry rotweillers, but that's a whole different story… or perhaps not. She doesn't dwell on the pointless idea, presently her mind isn't in much of a thinking mood.
Another sigh, resigned this time, a look at the seat in front of her. Aysha still lies there, sprawled in the exact same position as when they entered the train and dumped her on the seat. An unhealthy tint of wax covers her already pale features and her breathing is so meek that, on a first inspection, she would appear downright dead.
Lara herself would be inclined to think so, if it wasn't for the girl's grunts of protest when being dragged into the train.
A glance at the careless bandage around her hand. A tiny crimson flower is blooming among limp fingers, soaking the gaze at a slow but steady pace.
Trent offered no explanations about that, mentioning only that it was a superficial wound. Quite honestly, Lara isn't very interested in knowing what those two were up to down in her treasure room.
In her treasure room… Her hand curls into a fist as dozens of images cross her mind, all of them involving Trent and a whole lot of blood. On second thought, perhaps Aysha belongs in those images as well… But the fact that she just granted them a couple more hours to live (even though Lara doubts she even knows how she did it) somewhat delays her debut in lady Croft's dark list.
Impatient fingers drum on the iron windowsill. In the quietness of her thoughts, Lara awards Kurtis three minutes to cut the small talk, get a phone number, postpone the shagging and return. A hundred and eighty seconds in which her brain will leisurely go over all the possible ways to end his unfortunate existence with her bare hands.
She has more than enough reasons to want him by her side, namely his knowledge of the forces she is currently facing, but even more to want to beat him to a bloody pulp. One of said reasons is still pecking at the back of her mind with its greedy, taunting vulture-beak.
A sentence, a line, spat carelessly among the fire of a discussion, a stone thrown randomly. Meant to burn, hurt, hopefully stun, never to poison. Just another revelation of men's feeble knowledge of their own weapons.
She doesn't waste her time on it. She doubts he even remembers, so the only logical decision would be to forget about it and hope the vulture will grow tired of her battered carcass.
Only logic has no place among vultures and little to none importance in her current life. And so the cursed creature pecks on, feasting on anger and uncertainty.
"…you were a goddamn bump in the road that I'll be more than happy to forget!"
Pointless, random, meaningless… So devoid of purpose that it's hardly even worth dwelling on. Why she does, is beyond her. Or maybe it suits her to think so, as Kurtis's insanity, were it here in all its helpfulness, would promptly state.
Said insanity is, apparently, not performing its designated functions, for the face that appears through the door bears an expression of blank coolness, unsurprisingly seasoned by a glass of Jack Daniel's.
Lara watches as he crosses the cabin, twists his nose at the proto who is lying across an entire seat, and sets himself beside her. She doesn't move an inch to make room for him.
None of them seems to acknowledge the other's presence for several minutes. His gaze is lost somewhere on the lower right corner of the window frame, among a stray mosquito that buzzes ferociously against the glass, a prisoner gripping the bars of its cage. The not-so-effectively-conditioned air carries the fragrance of old leather and cigarette smoke. The lights of the tunnel outside flicker slightly in the gloom.
Lara's dry cough shatters the silence.
Slowly and lazily, Kurtis's eyes regain some of their focus. He blinks several times, reminding her of a crocodile on a river bank, disturbed from its thoughtful nap, deciding if it's worth to snap the neck of the creature that awoke it.
But he is looking at her. In a falsely condescending and patient way, but looking at her nonetheless.
"So?" she demands.
"So?"
"Are you going to tell me?"
He blinks another couple of times, azure orbs half closed.
"Now?"
She doesn't answer this one. She's quite aware that she doesn't have to, a glare is quite enough.
A strained sigh leaves his lips, but he decides to humour her. Or almost…
"We're going to Prague" he offers with a shrug.
"Already shared that little gem of information"
"Right… yeah…" More than lacking patience, he presently strikes Lara as downright tired. For a slightly panicked second, she is left with the impression that he's sort of making it up as he goes along and that he has no idea of what he intends to do once they get to Prague. His eyes loose focus for another moment, absently following the mosquito that is now buzzing around the compartment, but soon enough he's talking again "You never told me… you know, Eckhardt, the Sleeper…"
"You never asked" she replies, hardly surprised with the question, more with the timing.
"No. Never. So…?"
Her mind feels even hazier now, for some reason, and his fragmented, sleepwalker replies aren't helping. Therefore, her answer is as vague and uninterested, following the mosquito's rhythmic wandering.
"Dead. Karel did it." A pause, as if to recall something that hardly needs recalling "He was a nephilim as well" He nods absently and she's hardly even surprised that he isn't surprised. She quickly goes over the events, finding no use in painting the whole scene for him, keeping to the basic. The shards, Eckhardt, the Sanglyph, the Sleeper, Karel…
"How exactly did you kill it?" noticing her dormant expression, he adds "The Sleeper. What did you do with the Sanglyph?"
She paints him a more detailed portrait of her ascension through the metal gateway, the final jump, the attachment of the object to the sleeping creature's heel.
"It clung there like a magnet" she explains "Took no longer than twenty seconds for the thing to not-so-spontaneously combust"
Leaning slightly forward, Kurtis demands:
"What was the exact reaction? What happened to its body?"
"It sorta started glowing" she replies, not failing to notice his focus on this detail "The light increased, it engulfed its body, and soon enough it was like imploding" she shrugs "I didn't really stick around to watch the show, was a bit busy falling and then running out of the place" All the while the little mosquito dances in front of her face.
She sees him furrow his brow momentarily. A few seconds gone, however, and whatever spark of interest his eyes could have held has been entirely erased. Lara is left with the feeling that he had meant to ask her something else, but repented at the last minute.
Kurtis settles back on the seat, eyes once again lost in the infinity. The tunnel lights are flickering more insistently now.
On, off, on, off, on…
"Marten, how nice to hear from you again. Do you bring me news of our boy?"
"Boy is the right word, Herr Rouzic" the thick baritone voice resounds from the earpiece "That is exactly what he behaved like. And, if I may, he isn't exactly in his best shape, or he would certainly have noticed we were tailing him in the first place…"
"If that were the case, my dear Gunderson, there wouldn't be enough left of you to carry this conversation. Do not waste my time, cut to the point if you please"
A displeased grunt sounds muffled on the other side of the line, but the reply comes promptly.
"He is not reliable, I tell you, and you'll have the proof of that when he returns. Ask him how it went. I'll bet anything you want as he doesn't tell you about who he found"
"And who might that be?"
"One of his own. She was with the Croft woman and Trent"
Rouzic's hand halts its dance across the paper and his one good eye gains a strange gleam as the pen is dropped, forgotten on the desk.
"A proto, you say? With Croft and Trent?"
"Yes"
"Our weapons… first lost and now in the hands of our enemies…" these words are whispered thoughtfully, more to himself. A change in his tone, as if inquiring about extremely important data "Did you see which one?"
"No, my men were, obviously, forced to maintain an uncompromising distance"
"Obviously. But it was a female?"
"Yes, of that I'm sure"
He settles back on the chair, an utterly displeased look on his face.
"What else do you have to tell me, Marten?"
"Shadow reached Ms. Croft's location easily and proceeded to find cover in order to infiltrate the house. All very regular, except for the fact that he didn't even notice we were on his heels…"
"Save it, Marten"
"…that isn't even the start of it. He contradicted every order he received by giving his position away at the sight of the other proto"
"He is nineteen and impulsive"
"A disgrace as a soldier"
"Our boys aren't very good when it comes to following orders. That is, in fact, the main reason why our dearest Meister Eckhardt was kept in the dark regarding this project" The insinuation in his voice was so subtle that it would be hard to make out the sarcasm. A habit he had acquired over the years, to sound, look and act non-committal.
"Well, if you ask me…"
"That's the thing, you see? I did not and do not intend to ask you. Just report the facts, if you please, Gunderson"
It wouldn't take a genius to imagine how, on the other side of the line, the mouthpiece was being covered to muffle a string of curses and rather original insults to Rouzic's person. He waited patiently for the chief of the mercenaries to report again.
"A fight followed. Apparently his sister-that's what they call each other, isn't it, God- Wasn't very pleased to see him. And he didn't look too approving of her company. Our friend Trent could very well be a heap of burnt carnage by now"
"He could. But he is not" his tone is as blank as ever, but something in his expression is disturbed.
"No. The girl. She stopped your golden boy"
"Did she now?" a trace of clear interest is settling on his features, only noticeable if one spots the shivering iris of his healthy eye "And how might she have done that?"
"As I said, sir, we weren't close enough to get a good look and binoculars can't do a thing when the angle is bad. But I can tell you that no extraordinary display of powers took place…"
"No fireworks then, Marten?" He mocks, as if talking to an ignorant. The voice comes out very controlled from the ear-piece, but he can tell the other man is entertaining thoughts of gutting him in his sleep.
"There were no remarkable visual displays"
"Be precise with me"
"She lunged at him…"
"'Lunged'?"
"Yes. And pinned him down. After that there might have been an exchange between the two and then your Shadow left. She fainted afterwards"
"He left?"
"Yes. Not very wounded, I might add…"
"And she fainted… Thank you, Gunderson" the librarian harshly cuts in "Where are Croft and Trent now?"
"They've left the manor in a hurry, by car, and entered a train with destination to Callais"
"Where you are calling me from"
"Yes. Our orders?"
"Bring me the girl" he states simply "That Trent boy has been a thorn on our side for long enough, like his father before him, and Croft… Well, Master's interest in her is but pure curiosity, I believe. You get the picture, wanted dead or alive"
"Perfectly. And the girl?"
"She mustn't be hurt. Bring her to us unscathed, understand?"
"Yes. Is that all?"
"That is all. Good luck" he finishes dryly, putting the phone down at once. Long, sickly pale fingers drum on the wooden desk.
Master Karel must know about this.
Resigned, he begins his march downstairs.
The atmosphere feels slightly different for some reason. The feel of the scene seems to have changed, although the scenario remains the same. A new act, perhaps.
The mosquito zooms across the compartment, right in front of Lara's eyes. She is truly beginning to hate that thing.
"Mathias Vasiley" Kurtis speaks so suddenly that she almost jumps, despite herself "Does the name mean anything to you?" A quick scrutiny of his face tells her that, not only does he already know the answer, but it isn't really a question. He looks distracted, absent, whatever she wants to call him, everything but present.
"There's plenty of shiny things at his place" she mumbles, unwilling to drag this pointless conversation for any longer. So she moves in for the kill "How come he was in possession of all the engravings?"
A straight look, a focused one, and finally his undivided attention.
"You mean your friend never told you? The one that got killed?" noticing her expression, he hastily adds "It was on the papers. I do read, you know?"
"He didn't really have the time to tell me much" she replies, making a face. Brown eyes suddenly snap up to meet his, as if what she is about to say is of vital importance "He wasn't my friend" not quite sure of whom she is trying to convince.
A swift hand lands flatly on the seat beside her, as casual as a fallen leaf. It stays there as the atmosphere goes silent, devoid of some noise they only now realise existed.
"Von Croy was in contact with Mr. Vasiley for almost a month, I gather" she continues blankly "Now, for an art dealer, this guy sure was sharp. He soon realised how much the engravings were worth and kept the fifth back, he asked for more money…" she suddenly stops, feeling rather stupid. Kurtis bears a knowing and slightly amused expression, which unnerves her to no end "Care to enlighten me?"
"He was never really after cash. He was just being a responsible guardian"
No need to ask, no point in doubting.
"Looking after the interests of the order, I see"
"And of the general population" he removes the Chirugai from its resting place on his belt, twirling it around in his hands like a stress-ball "He smelled Eckhardt miles away"
"A model citizen. Why deliver the other engravings in the first place, then? If he knew Eckhardt was behind Von Croy all along?"
"He was stalling. Buying his time"
"Time for what? For whom?"
The Chirugai's blades spring to life suddenly in his hands, startling her slightly, and then slowly draw back, like a docile kitten ordered to collect its claws. His expression is perfect, steely and cold, but the weapon in his hands betrays his feelings.
"For someone that came too late" is the reply, followed by a humourless chuckle "I have a hell of a tendency for that"
She remains silent, fully aware that they are treading on glass spikes and that he is already getting cut.
His actions tell a different story, though, and he is all of a sudden only too keen on talking.
"What you have to understand is that the Lux Veritatis wasn't just this huge army of mighty fighters, there was an underworld web, complexity, hierarchy… When you look back on this kind of orders, history tells you about tall men brandishing heavy swords with red crosses on their chests…"
Lara nods in understanding, urging him to go on.
"…you hear about the men that give their face on the battlefield, the ones in charge of the action. What you don't hear about is the ones on the background, the supporters, contacts, keepers of documents, secrets, keys…"
"…vaults"
He smiles faintly, not truly impressed but pleased enough with the fact that she is keeping up.
"Our Vasiley was a keeper. Invaluable as a source of information, useless as a fighter. Eckhardt knew that"
"By keeping the fifth engraving back, he hoped that the Vault of Trophies would remain undisturbed and the painting would be safe… Tough luck. Was he the last one?"
"There are probably more… Around, hiding, cowering…" he shrugs "They're all useless now"
"And you were the mighty fighter he was expecting?"
He snorts.
"I was the only mighty fighter left" a grimace accompanies the bitter statement "Funny how you spend most of your adult life trying to run away from something and then suddenly realise that if you had just stayed for a little while longer, there wouldn't be anything left to runaway from. Even funnier, no matter the choice you make, there will be ghosts on your slate"
"Truly funny, how a single ghost is enough to make you return to what you fought so hard to run away from"
Their eyes meet in silence. The first of many times when they see their own expression reflected on the other's face. He is the first to lower his gaze.
The lights are even worse here, if possible.
On, off, on, off, off, on, off, off, off…
"We need a way to dispose of our new acquaintances" he states hoarsely, nodding towards a still sleeping Aysha "According to her charming brother, Karel is also a problem. These protos are mostly human, so I'm guessing that they can be killed… They can be wounded at least…" His eyes stop momentarily on the girl's bandaged hand, now soaked in crimson liquid "But we still got the major problem, probably not in Prague anymore, but hidden in some God forsaken place, recovering from his last meeting with you"
"And there are no more shards" she completes.
His smile is resigned and tired.
"We need a new indestructible weapon. Preferably one that can't be destroyed, this time"
On, off, off, off…
"And you think the answer to our problems is at Vasiley's place?"
"Hey, I'm just the fighter" he states, stupidly waving the Chirugai in the air "Guys like Vasiley are the ones meant to do the thinking and have the knowledge and all that"
On, off, off, off, off…
Lara sighs.
"Here's hoping he kept 'the knowledge' somewhere other than his mind, because otherwise we have a problem"
He smiles and nods, a faraway gleam in his eyes.
"Do you… have a theory?" she tries.
Off.
The entire tunnel plunges into permanent darkness and the train's internal lights have the same fate.
The sound of complaining passengers rises from the compartments all around them. At first, just an indignant whining, then a surprised clucking and finally a panicked shouting, accompanied by a sound that doesn't quite belong there.
Kurtis and Lara stand up at once, the last's hand finally leaving the seat where it covered the dead mosquito.
"Silencer" she declares, speaking up both their minds. In less than five seconds, both guns are drawn, Kurtis has prodded Aysha into wakefulness and the three of them are out in the hallway.
"Master?"
"Come in, Luther, come in"
The librarian closes the heavy metal door behind him, making sure to keep his gaze down.
"How are you feeling today?" he asks cautiously.
"Abismal, why go around it. It is still too soon to see any improvements"
A minute of silence goes by as Rouzic takes a seat on a wooden chair, close enough to hear Karel's whispered words but far enough to be respectful. He quickly scrutinizes the entire cloaked form, making sure the light is settled in all the correct places.
"You don't look so bad…" he states, only to be promptly interrupted.
"Don't. I can't stand pity and hypocrisy truly revolts me"
Another moment of silence, this time interrupted by Karel.
"You bring me news? Or didn't you have anything better to do with your time?"
"News, I'm afraid" he answers, carefully measuring his words "Ethaniel's mission was a failure"
"Ah. How surprising"
"You were expecting it?"
"Quite frankly, I didn't think he'd manage to make a mess of it so soon"
Rouzic glares at him with open confusion.
"Oh, come now Luther…" his tone is lazy and condescending as if these news had got him in a good mood "I had to find a way to keep the boy busy! You know how restless he may get and we wouldn't want him snooping around here too much"
"No… I guess not" Settling back on the chair, Rouzic's eye scans the room frantically, like a spokesman looking for a familiar face in the audience, something that might give him confidence for what he is about to say "He met another one… One of the girls"
This silence is quite different, tense and heavy as Karel leans forward.
"Which one?" he demands.
"I don't know… the men couldn't get a clear view of her…" hastily, Rouzic tells him all that Gunderson reported, trying not to overlook a single detail.
"That doesn't sound like Ethaniel" is the verdict.
"No. I'm actually quite convinced that he abandoned the fight virtually unharmed and extremely amused"
Karel nods thoughtfully.
"My boy…" he muses. Then Rouzic has his undivided attention "This is bad. We cannot afford to have Ethaniel find those kids before we do"
"Master… Forgive my confusion, but I never did understand that point… Is it because you fear that if he finds them, he'll think he doesn't need you after all?"
"My dear Luther" Karel waves his head as if dealing with a hopeless case "You are invaluable as a co-worker, but the humanity in you still crosses me at times, in all its grandeur and stupidity…"
If the librarian is offended, he knows better than to show it, so Karel proceeds.
"My boy has a great potential, there is no doubt about that. But he is a foolish child, only just beginning to mature and, no matter what he says, he is perfectly aware that he doesn't represent much of a threat to me" noticing Rouzic's desire to speak, he elevates his tone "Did you, by a single moment, think that he intends to bow before me and serve me once my kingdom is established?" it is not a question and he doesn't wait for an answer "If he had the power to do so, my Ethaniel would promptly bite off the hand that feeds him and gorge on the rest of the carcass"
"But he doesn't have such power…"
"No. Alone, he is no threat"
Rouzic opens his mouth, but halts before a single sound comes out. He closes it again, understanding finally setting on his eye.
"My kids follow him like dogs. He is the alpha male and they all know it, not to mention they all hate me beyond imagination"
"Ungrateful children…"
"Indeed. I don't know where this world is going…" A dry coughing fit interrupts his line of thought and he needs a second to collect it again "Either way, I would have no trouble against Ethaniel. Seven protos at the flower of their youth, however, can be a whole different story for someone in my condition…"
Rouzic nods, not failing to notice the profound bitterness in his Master's statement.
"Soon they will be no match for your powers. Soon…"
"That soon will not be soon enough" for no apparent reason, he shifts slightly in his seat. With a soft rustling, the cloak is rearranged and nestled in a different position, the light emanating from its innards increasing slightly "And we have another pressing matter that, with the news you bring, may turn out to be even more urgent…"
"Yes… Do you… Do you really think this is the girl?"
"I am inclined to think so. According to Gunderson's description, hers was a ridiculously weak power display that, however, didn't fail to drain her of a lot of energy… You tell me she ended up fainting?"
"Yes, those were Marten's precise words"
Karel nods knowingly.
"She is not yet comfortable with her powers. That narrows down our options, only two of the kids were in such a situation when they left… Just our luck, both were females"
"Unfortunate…"
"Extremely. I want a visual of this girl as soon as possible"
"Hopefully there will be more than a visual, I've ordered Gunderson to bring her to us"
"Good. Do you understand the enormity of this, Luther? If that girl is, indeed, the last, and has fallen into the hands of the Lux Veritatis…"
"The Lux Veritatis is but one man now!"
"One man is all it takes, idiot!" the intensity of his voice reverberates on the stone walls, making Rouzic shiver inside. More than anything, it reminds him that the Nephilim before him is weakened but not invalid "Follow my line of thought, man, we can lose any of the other six, we can easily remake them! A human womb, an embryo and a single sample from my DNA is all it takes… But we cannot replace her!"
"But sir, just as easily…"
"NO, fool! It was that blood, that egg and that womb, those and those alone, that produced the lamb!" He takes several ragged deep breaths, forcing calm upon his outraged mind and continues, talking very slowly as if explaining something to a child "No others will work. The reason is unknown to us, but only the exact combination of those elements gave birth to the lamb that will be able to breach the seals"
The librarian nods slowly, resigned yet unsettled.
"We will find her" he assures.
"You had better" even beyond the hood of the cloak, Rouzic can feel Karel's icy gaze penetrating his skull "We cannot risk loosing this child. Not a second time" he waves his hand dismissively and Rouzic hurries to stand up, bow slightly and leave the room.
As the metal door closes behind him, a single thought is plaguing his mind: time is scarcer than they had thought. Things are going wrong.
OK, so this chapter contains another truckload of information and the reason why I don't like itis because it became very slow paced... Terribly sorry, but you'll have to bear with me, there is a ridiculously huge amount of information involved in this story and that means yes, many more long conversations.
On a more random note, chapter titles are evil.
Well, if anything, I can tell you that there'll be action in the next chapter. Which is bound to be out sometime before 2007 :P
Yeah. Thanks for reading, I'll apreciate it if you find the time to review and feel free to ask questions, I'm extremely "reachable" and I try to reply whenever I can ;)