21 February 2009: Editing complete.

Chapter II: The Goods

"Come with me…"

Hunger in the vampire's voice. Half-stooped, he fled across the room, beckoning for them to follow down a long hallway. Pillars flanking the opening with a pair of stone angels peering at them from above. The ceiling was curved, the stone floor marginally sloped. The old frescoes faded with the faces of holy men and women peeling away with time.

Arms behind his back, Lucian strode after the vampire, keeping him in sight, the shadow of Raze following behind him. As always, he drank in his surroundings, survival instincts giving him the propensity to search for exits and guarded shelter. The relentless thirst for history placing everything in perspective. Through his eyes, the pillars became cover, the angels useful for crushing enemies. The warped stone foundations were collapsible, and degraded frescoes could be broken through. A part of him wanted to look upon the angels a moment longer.

Only a moment...

He passed beneath them without breaking his stride. He had no time for their devotion. The righteous guardianship they held over this monastery. Unlike the frescoed architecture behind, the walls here were not so impressive. Empty rooms on either side suggesting that once, the monastery had been occupied by many. Benches within every alcove and more books piled underneath and above. Cobwebs and dust betrayed the years since these rooms had been entered. The years since anyone had last swept the floors.

At the end of the hall, Tanis halted, his rigid shoulders stooping even further, his scent growing in leaps and bounds. Agitation and fear. The expression on his face was a mixture of frustration and cunning, his greenish-yellow eyes darting along a small door as if considering the best method for turning the handle. A few feet away, Lucian only had eyes for the lock. Rusty along the edges, it had not been there the last time he visited the monastery. Never one to hold back from his own inquisitiveness, he stepped around the vampire and tried the handle.

Locked.

He looked at Tanis.

"Open it."

The vampire nodded, reaching a shaky hand into his robes and drawing out a set of mangled, iron keys. Twice, they slipped, but twice, he snatched them before they could hit the ground. This was the product of exile, when even the dusty floor became a thief waiting in the dark. For the sake of business and very little else, Lucian took a step back, giving the man some space. Killing aside, he was aware that one had to show a measure of tolerance when trading. Tolerance which did not extend to the other trader's life. Or his eyes.

Perhaps his thoughts showed upon his face…

For Tanis, looking up, suddenly backed against the door as though he had just seen new reason to turning tail and running. He opened his mouth and then shut it again. Swallowing, he turned around, splaying the keys across his palm, searching for the right one. Searching. There were only six keys on the ring, yet he examined each one thoroughly, rattling it long and well in the lock before moving on. When they came to the last, he hesitated, licking his lips. Slow, he held the key up in the shadows and then even slower, placed it in the rusty lock.

Lucian remained silent, folding his arms and waiting for the man to turn the key. He was almost intrigued by this impressive display of dawdling. Not many people could take five minutes to open a door. There was something very personal behind it. Something Tanis desperately did not want him to see. Again, the vampire turned, opening his mouth to speak. A small growl from Raze shut him up. If one thing could be said of the lycan, he had an eye for punctuality. Their ship would be leaving with dawn, and the two hours until sunrise said that if Tanis did not open the door in the next five seconds, Raze would be breaking it down.

The vampire had no choice. He bent towards to the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned the key, slowly pushed the door open…

…and without waiting, dashed into the room, his legs gearing for the wall that faced them.

Lucian reacted, his nails sinking into Tanis' shoulder, forcing the vampire to halt. It was the sound of a creeping whimper, the touch of grasping fingers. He was aware of these things, yet he ignored everything else, his eyes snared by the facing wall…by what hung on the facing wall. He knew he had stopped breathing. Making no sound, he took a step forward, the vampire's shoulder coming with him. In the corner of his eye, Raze fell back, keeping his head down. Perhaps sensing the change. Perhaps recalling what happened the last time he saw that.

It was the hidden entrance to the catacombs.

He knew that well enough, yet the last time they had been here, the entrance had been obscured by a bookshelf. An ungainly thing fashioned of oak and iron. Forty years on, the shelf had been shoved to the right. Chopped into bits and pieces for the sake of firewood, its successor wavering from the ceiling, covering the entrance with mere cloth. Captivating his eyes even as he wanted to burn it. He had assumed Tanis had burned it. An old moth-eaten tapestry, ten feet high and six feet across, the fabric dragging on the floor. It was as if the world had stilled. Silence through the monastery, the angels in the hallway hoping for the creeping vampire in their midst to meet his end.

Feeling defensive, Lucian tore his gaze away. No wonder Tanis dawdled. In all his cunning stratagems, he never dreamed he would be trading anything from the catacombs… Restless, his eyes darted around the room, growing evermore reluctant to look back upon the tapestry. There was a bed on the left, wooden slats with no bedding. A broken chair and a secretaire covered in dust. A few books on the floor. The air was musty, a rank smell…a faint draft of cold air coming from the entrance. He wanted to rip out the vampire's throat, but he forced himself into a state of calm. He would have to look at it sometime. His talons withdrew, the vampire falling to a heap on the ground, a shallow cry followed by an attempt to back away. The sound of blood dripping from his fingers.

What is done is done.

"Find a torch," he ordered, his second instinct to be alone. The vampire swallowed air and scuttled back towards the outer hall. Raze followed, the sound of the door closing behind them. His scent was one of absolute deference. There was a faint clatter followed by a whining bleat before that too fell into silence.

Dangerously calm, Lucian closed his eyes for a moment…and then focused upon the old tapestry, the faded threads trailing from corner to corner. His gaze wove its way into the centre. Stepping closer, he breathed in the dust, searching for the rage that gripped him the last time he stood in front of it. Almost forty years ago, in all his confidence, Tanis had made the mistake of trying to sell it to him. He still remembered the shock of seeing it in the dining hall. All business ending between them. Perhaps he had been rash. Knowing what he would find, he looked up from the centre. At the very top, a line of faded Latin described the imagery: Coronation of Amelia— …the rest of the words obscured by grime…

…but his memory could fill in the rest.

Coronation of Amelia...

…flanked by two ladies-in-waiting. 1232 Anno Mundi.

His gaze moved through the embellishments and forestry. The stone walls of a fortress. In its centre, an entourage of eight warriors bowed before three embroidered ladies. The first, a pale long-haired woman of the Orient, the second a dark and graceful queen garbed in silver. Of the third lady, there was no more. Only a tangle of thread, a hole where the tapestry had been scratched through by claws. His hand reached forward, perfectly still, almost lingering over the gaping tear. There was no rage. No regret. Only emptiness.

The tentative sound of a knock came from behind.

"Enter," he growled, the dull colours leaping into bright existence with the entrance of flame. Golden threads. Even with the dust of seven centuries, the golden threads shone as brightly as the sun. The rage returned. His nails sharpened into talons, a harsh, cracking sound, his bones lengthening in a split second. Tanis' eyes widened, legs backing away only to collide with the solid rock that was Raze.

Scowling, Lucian twisted his nails into the hole, tearing deeper into the absent lady, yanking the tapestry from its hanging. A tapestry his wife had worked upon. It crumpled to the ground, revealing the dark corridor behind. Turning to face the two men watching him, he narrowed his eyes… "Do you plan on trading before or after the sun rises?"

There was no answer. Tanis scuttled into the darkness, his torch throwing light upon the cracks. In under five seconds, his thin silhouette sprinted down the corridor and with the same chain of keys, opened the door at its end, revealing a stone staircase. Without pause, he scarpered down its steps, leaving them behind. A hint of shivering light was the only suggestion that he waited below.

Interesting, thought Lucian, looking on some trace of bitter humour. Somehow vampires always assumed there was a threat involved whenever anyone mentioned the sun. He glanced back at Raze, silently commanding him to stay, at times weary of his subordinate's penchant for guarding his back. The scent of wariness rose by a margin, but nodding once, the lycan turned away. The horses would need checking, particularly with the rain. Even before the door had closed, Lucian was heading down the corridor, his eyes continuing to shine silver as he eyed the footsteps ahead of him. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust…completely untouched save for Tanis' footprints going backwards and forwards. Either this bloodseer was a ruse or she had not left the catacombs in a very long time.

Smelling something rank, he began to descend, relaxed in his stance, stalking as if he had all the time in the world. He knew the monastery layout. The original catacombs were a simple affair forming a cross facing north. Nowhere for Tanis to run. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the air became freezing, the tasteless smell of death touching his nose. The stone walls were covered in mildew and slime. Skulls beneath his feet, skeletons lying in slots, bones fallen to the ground. Every item of value had been stripped from the dead occupants.

He looked to the right. In the distance, the torch flickered, the silhouette of Tanis walking ahead, the stones getting more jagged, the smell growing more prominent. On his guard, he followed the vampire, his ears pricked for sounds, his eyes and instinct looking for tracks in the dirt. Again, there was only one pair of footprints moving back and forth. Tiny bones along the edges of the passageway. Every twelve paces, there was a square hole in the wall, the dark tunnel-offshoots providing enough height for a lycan to run on all fours. Familiar with these escape routes, he glanced into every one as he passed. All the exits had been blocked up, but they could still harbour an ambush. Almost tranquil, his nails began to grow. He was starting to doubt the existence of this woman. As if Tanis could hear him, the vampire stopped in front of one the square holes. Bones littered around the entrance, the skeleton of a fallen monk lying against the side.

"There…"

His voice was a feverish whine, his hand pointing into the tunnel, beyond the skull and bones. Relieving him of the torch, Lucian stepped forward and crouched by the hole. His eyes, cold and merciless, taking in every detail as he brought the torch closer. Every surface and texture twisted into the light, the unforgiving pallor of sharp desperation.

He felt no pity…

…yet he could only guess at how long she'd been there.

Pale and scrawny, she sat at the end of the tunnel intersection, arms curled around her knees, the skin scratched and bruised. Though she was shivering, every trace of warmth had been shoved back. A grey shawl scrunched on the ground, flea-infested blankets piled by the entrance. Only a thin shift hung from her shoulders, the grimy material torn along the edges. Except for the shivering, he might have wagered she was dead.

She had become a flesh-eaten vampire mingling with the forgotten bones of a monastery. Gaunt bones in her neck, the cheeks hollow and strained. Dirt scrubbed across her withered skin. All the hair fallen out, so it was not hard to see the shape of her face. Like a bird of prey, though anaemia had prematurely aged her. For all he knew, she could be no more than twenty and four; yet starved, she had forced herself into a false form of aging hibernation. A defence-mechanism which held more peril for the fact that its abuser was half-awake…

Unexpectedly, she looked up.

A pair of icy blue eyes glowing in the darkness before him. Violent and deadly, the colour of the sea caught in each iris. Jaws widening slowly, almost painfully, she found strength enough to bare her teeth at him. The sharp hiss of an ancient sea-hawk rising against the wind. Hatred in her gaze…the hostility crumpling beneath a shallow moan. She could not speak even if she wanted to. She could not hear. The blue eyes were gone, closed, her breathing strained. She was conserving her energy.

"How long has she been like this?" Keeping his eyes on the blood-seer, Lucian directed his words to Tanis. The historian had backed away as if afraid of being thrashed. There was no need to fear…he was not angry. Merely curious.

"Only a few weeks," the man said, the sound of a lie on his tongue.

"How long," Lucian asked again, his quiet tone becoming colder than ice. The blood-seer had been starved here longer than weeks. Longer than years. He studied the damage. Bite marks along both her wrists, the wounds showing where Tanis found some of his meals these days. Several decaying rats showed the source of hers…the same stench emanating from beneath the blankets. Her toenails were black and swollen. Her body healing at the rate of a human by this point.

For the second time this night, Tanis had tried to sell him flawed goods. They could still fix this as long as she could be woken from the half-sleep.

"I…I tried to care for her, but…she was…sometimes she…" Tanis had taken a step back, but by some foolish resolve, tried to regain his footing… "Only a month, I swear…"

A wolf uncurling itself, Lucian dragged the historian forward and into his face. The words gritting from his tongue, silver slits for eyes as he made himself perfectly clear… "Believe me, Tanis…" he growled softly, tightening his grip before the man could bolt. "…I do not care if you have mistreated a vampire. All I am asking for is the duration. Can you comprehend that?"

At the point of yelping, the scrawny historian nodded fervently. "Yes," he added for good measure.

"Excellent…" He did not release his grip. "…now how long?"

"I…I don't always…keep track of the exact date or time…but it was…she was…apparently on the pier. Raving lunatic. Calling for me by name. If the vampires thought I had left the monastery, I could have been…" The torch shifted closer into the vampire's face and immediately, he skipped forward in his story. "…and then, Josef found her before any of the deathdealers caught wind. Some foreign coven already banished her, burned the mark in her side. He said he was doing me a favour. He brought her here, but she wouldn't stop screaming all the time. I…I can't work unless there is complete…"

"What year?"

"1881."

"The devil you did." The curse fell without thought, some remnant of his past self still disgusted by the concept. Eighteen years spent starving in this tomb…but at least the woman had not passed the mark. They could bring her out of hibernation. The damage might even be reversible. He glanced back into the dark hole. Her eyes had opened again. The tilted blue of a seahawk watching him from the darkness.

A vampire.

"I expect you don't know this," he murmured, not even realising why he spoke to her. "…but you are very lucky." He released the historian's robes and shoved him back towards the hole, the flames from the torch causing the vampire to flinch. Turning away, he let his words echo behind him…"Bring her upstairs. There is work to be done."

A hungry leer must have crept onto the historian's face, the weedy voice whistling out from the hole, almost singing with enthusiasm. "I assume this means we're going into…"

Immediately, Lucian twisted back around, his teeth glinting sharp as he cut the man off. "We do business when she's back on her feet. Until then…" He paused, letting his eyes glow silver through the catacombs. "…I'm going to be kind and allow her to drink your blood until there is time to hunt in the morning." The thought couldn't help but make him smile. "I'm sure she would do the same for you."

He did not have to see Tanis' face to know the man had blanched.

Without another word, Lucian stalked back along the catacombs, taking the light with him and leaving the historian in the darkness. By the time he reached the staircase, he was already calculating how his plans would be affected by this latest outcome. The rescheduling of their departure; rooms for a party of three rather than two. The payment required for something as precious as a blood-seer.

First, however, they would have to heal her. Wake her from the dangerous half-sleep she had put herself in. For that, they were going to need blood. A lot of it…

…and by hell, there had better be a basin upstairs or this was going to get extremely unpleasant.

With that thought, he frowned, his foot halting on the first step, the obvious coming to him with a wave of repugnance. Their bags were already at the docks. His hand trailed to the tailored lining of his grey coat, almost regretting his journey here. He had liked this suit. Removing the outer coat, Lucian began to ascend the staircase…

At least Raze would be in good spirits. The lycan had been eyeing the forests for days. Finally, he would get to hound himself a deer or two.

Perhaps three.

A/N: A hearty thank you to Sheen, ThranduilsDaughter, Amanda, and the unnamed reviewer! Also to Maltesegirl50 and the DevilInside for alerts and favourites!

ThranduilsDaughter: Don't worry, one of these days I'll work out a means of getting Lucian alive in a sequel. Just you wait...

Anonymous Reviewer: I really wish you would leave your name next time. I'm very glad you enjoy my work and am extremely glad you like my brand of Lucian. (I confess, I like him as well as you may have noticed.)

Hope everyone enjoys the second chapter in this installment. Every review keeps me writing...so please read and review!

Reference:

Anno Mundi - Latin for 'in the year of the world. '