Chapter XI: The Vulture of St. Matthias
Two minutes had passed.
Ever tolerant, Lucian focused on the hard knuckles of his opponent, seething eyes, the silver-plated walking-stick brandishing closer to his face. Endless prattle going on and on. Moments like these made him question the wisdom of joining forces with a traitor. The more the man raged, the more he betrayed himself as a coward. A vulture that had been pushed too far, the posture slouched, the neck leaning forward slightly. One of these days, the spine would crack…
"Three days behind schedule!" Kraven seethed through his teeth. He was a lanky vampire, his hair black with an uncharacteristic gloss, his accent marred by the tendency to over-exaggerate every word, every setback. There was almost a dent in the cobblestone where he'd been pacing. "Three days! How do you expect me to deal with this kind of…"
"I do not, cousin," he interrupted. "Now get to the point. I have a ship to catch."
It was the wrong thing to say.
He knew that.
As always, there was a shocked interval as Kraven processed the words, the face starting to contort around what could only be described as an pubescent explosion. Counting the seconds away, Lucian made good use of the time, unobtrusively scrutinising his surroundings…
It was the first time he had seen St. Matthias Church in almost twenty years, the courtyard empty save for themselves. All surprisingly eerie, considering their guise as the most feared creatures of the night. Above him, the church of the lady rose out of the scaffolds, the stone entrance flanked by timber and workman's tools. The workers had finished rebuilding it in the last year, the neighbouring buildings torn down, the walls recreated in their original form. Only the final touches left in the aftermath. Magnificent, he thought. His gaze did not stop there. In the distance, the fires were lit around Buda Castle, hinting at the destruction of the royal seat almost fifty years ago. Unsurprisingly, the Hungarians had rebuilt that as well...as soon as the timbers had collapsed. Of course, the new design was far more austere than the previous Baroque one. Then again, the architects were no longer running after a Viennese queen.
Exhaling, Lucian looked forward again. As if focusing on architecture could change the air of this meeting…
…or the spit.
"A ship?" The vampire sneered in his face, spittle flying, fists on the verge of shoving him back against the coach. Clearly, the only thing stopping him was the memory of the last time he had struck the lycan master. Or almost struck him. "That ship would have been gone if it were not for me."
Lucian checked his watch. "We do what we must, Kraven."
Oh yes, we do what we must, he thought. Another fleck of spit landed on his skin. It was taking all of his willpower not to wrestle that stick away and use it as a stopper on the vampire's throat.
"We?" Kraven snarled, snapping the walking stick against the cobblestone. The two pieces fell to the ground, rolling beyond their circle. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through to set this up? What I always have to go through?"
Lucian did not answer, merely wiping his thumb across his jaw, passing his gaze over Soren and the twelve deathdealers around him, all of his boredom showing and only a margin of his irritation. That one he wanted to hang from the bell tower. They were still standing too close to the coach, his ears picking up every creak, every drunken moan from behind the door as Raze briefly lifted the coat. Keep talking, Kraven. Keep talking loud. Seemingly unaffected, he gestured to the church. "Shall we?" It was their oldest meeting place.
Kraven shook his head, waving his hand impatiently. "We'll talk in the coach."
This was not happening.
Lucian smiled warmly. Their truce did not allow for the smuggling of exiles out of the country, particularly without consent. Rather than let her go free, the deathdealers would probably just kill the woman right here.
"Oh come now…" He raised an eyebrow, keeping his place in front of the door. Another muffled burble. The vampires had to be deaf not to hear it. "Twenty years, Kraven. Let us observe some manner of dignity in this reunion." He could feel his left eye twitching.
"I want you gone."
"I have no wish to stay, cousin," He almost bit the word. "…but I have been travelling for three days in that damned coach. The church is a needed respite."
"Fine," the vampire muttered suddenly with a pompous shrug, kicking up surprisingly little fuss now that it was clear Lucian would not move without his agreement. What was the world coming to that he was actually waiting on Kraven's opinion? As if that would occur a second time.
Hands behind his back, Lucian nodded in appreciation and began to amble towards the church, allowing Kraven to walk first. He needed to placate his ally. "I would have sent word, cousin, but there was an unforeseeable casualty on the road." The lies came easily. "The matter was taken care of quickly enough, but the aftermath required some…inducement before the involved party would be silent. You understand?"
"Of course," the vampire shrugged, his jaw jutting forward, his back straightening. The distinct expression of one that was used to the concept of murder for the sake of silence, his words streaming too quickly… "I just want this…over and done with as soon as possible, cousin…" A shoddy attempt at being diplomatic. Never a soldier. Never a diplomat. "…it affects my conduct." Like a caricature of what Kraven assumed a vicious traitor would look like. A youngster forever trying to prove himself as strong enough, smart enough…cruel enough.
"It's understandable," he agreed smoothly without thinking. Five minutes had definitely passed. No going back now. Frustrating that Kraven would appear for this meeting, but the need to talk meant there was strong incentive. Even a bloodseer was not as important as that.
"You must be anxious to know why I am here…"
"Naturally…" Lucian murmured distantly, masking his displeasure as they approached the west façade, more shadows looming around the building. It was a second cohort of deathdealers, all of them dressed in the brownish-grey of street walkers, none of their faces familiar. Soren moved to join them, leaning against the church exterior, observing him without fear. Never any fear or emotion on Soren's face. Soren with his glass eyes, always looking on, emotionless. Soren who had turned the wheel, letting the sunlight fall on his wife's face. He never forgot that. Never. Soren whom he could not help thinking about even as Kraven addressed the reason behind his attendance…
"As you know, Viktor must choose his …"
Behind them, the stagecoach rocked on the street suddenly, the crude smack of a body hitting the wooden door. The sound of the horses rearing before they were brought under control again. Lucian felt his neck tighten, but he did not turn to look at what happened. Instead he kept walking, for all the world as if nothing strange had occurred.
"Cousin?" Kraven had stopped, staring over his shoulder at the stagecoach, the blue eyes piercing, his sneer growing more threatening.
Just keep walking…
"Cousin!"
"Yes?" He turned calmly to look at the vampire. He had to play this right, his voice purposefully set in jaded tones, the knowledge of a general who was far too tired to explain the obvious. He could smell it, the sweat, the hostility, the deathdealers all around, Soren taking a step back towards the stagecoach, waiting for Kraven's order. Soothing the horses, Goar appeared as placid as ever, but his eyes had started reflecting.
"The coach, cousin." The horses were completely still now, a testament to how well they were trained.
"What of it?"
"It moved."
"I'm aware of that."
"So what the hell are you playing at?"
Lucian frowned, turning the question back on the man in an entirely vague manner. "What do you think I'm playing at?" He had no more options, no more words. Vague denial. It was a strategy that often worked in political situations, except Kraven was on edge, and therefore unpredictable. Still scowling, he jerked his head once at the moon before resuming his amble towards the church. Likely the vampire would come up with his own strange conclusion for this obviously underhanded situation.
Finally he heard footsteps, long legs striding, ringing out on the cobblestones. The vampire caught up with him easily, venturing his guess with scorn… "You brought Raze?"
"Oh you are a bright one," Lucian grunted sarcastically, shrugging the man's arm off his sleeve. He was going to kill Raze when he got back to that coach. Either the bloodseer was injured or she was dead. He continued as if it were the most mind-numbing thing to even discuss this matter. "…you need not fear, cousin. He only lapses now and again. I am certain the muzzle will hold."
"Muzzle?" The vampire missed a step, masking it with a turn. The vulture had taken the bait. "You said he was in control."
"Yes, and if I told you of every lycan that lost control on a full moon, we'd be here until next Michaelmas." In the corner of his eye, Kraven was still gazing intently back at the stagecoach. No matter. The man looked more introspective than phsyically interested in retracing their steps. Touching the wooden frame, he stalked through the western door and deeper into the recesses of the old church. "Now forget the coach. What news?"
"Forget the coach?" The disgruntled voice got louder, echoing into the wide hall. "It is made of wood, not silver, cousin. What if he gets out?"
"Then you have leave to retrieve him," Lucian murmured with a sinister smile, taking his seat at the last pew, his gaze sweeping to the right and left, taking in all of the changes wrought upon the interior. The entire cathedral was redone on the inside as well. He could just make out painted tendrils, the geometric forms making their new mark upon the walls. It was amazing how productive mortals could be in the space of a few years…
"There would be no retrieval," Kraven sneered, eyeing one of the dusty tapestries. His gaze flicked to Lucian to check his reaction. "He would be executed on sight." Like a child, the vampire was trying to get his back up.
"Fair enough." Tranquil, Lucian looked down from the cathedral ceiling and crossed his arms. "Just keep your men back, Kraven, and there won't be a problem."
The vampire stiffened. "I would do it."
Right. Tired of this game, Lucian skipped to the point. "Do you actually have news?"
Kraven did not seem to hear, once more attempting to mount his high horse. "You cannot change his nature, cousin," he declared boldly, the sound of disgust on his tongue. As if he knew anything about the nature of lycans. "He is too wild, like a lycan before it is tamed…"
"…then cut his head off and put him on a wall. I'll send you the nails myself." The vampire went on and on about punctuality, but then took twelve hundred years to get to a point. He was starting to lose his patience. Already Kraven was looking at him sideways, the tension returning. He waved the look aside. "Now about Viktor," he grunted again, stretching his arms out on either side of the pew.
"Viktor," the vampire blinked…and then nodded to himself. The word seemed to sap energy from his shoulders and slumping, he finally took his seat on the other pew. Unlike the tranquillity of Lucian's bearing, he had buried his face in his hands. "The night before you came. Michaelmas…three nights ago, the final hours of the banquet, Viktor took me aside. He spoke to me, cousin. He revealed to me…his choice for the succession…"
Lucian sat forward. "You are to take charge?" All their plans. "So soon?" The elders' choice to split the coven had changed the laws of succession, but Viktor's decision was not to come for another year.
"He gave me a warning. I am closer…" The vampire lowered his hands, raising his head to look across the aisle. "…but there is a hitch."
"A hitch?"
"Selene," Kraven swallowed. "The deathdealer I told you about."
Lucian exhaled, frowning at the pew in front of him. "Selene," he repeated calculatingly. He had never seen her, but it was said…it was said that she was closest to the heart of Viktor. The perfect daughter in private, dutiful and obedient. A killing machine on the streets. He glanced over at Kraven. The man's head was in his hands again. "He has adopted her then?"
"Not officially. He is divided between the two of us. He is…concerned over the repercussions. She is still an outsider to the council. She does not live as the others do. An ascetic." Kraven was losing his cool. His face was contorted, the pale version of jealousy tinged with ire. "Only the deathdealers welcome her presence, yet he considers her potential. She stands out among them…"
So it was to be the diplomat or the warrior…
"How long do you have?"
"The next solstice. The council will meet a year from now."
Lucian nodded, touching his hand to the pew, running a finger along it. There was a dent here. The problem could have been solved centuries ago, but Kraven's courting ability was based on whether his targets could think or not. He did not soften his tone. "She cannot be second, Kraven. Your place beside Viktor cannot be compromised."
"You think I do not know that?" Kraven scoffed. "I have been working on it."
"You've been working on it for four centuries," Lucian observed disdainfully, already certain of where this was leading. He had already suggested murder more than once, but Kraven had balked every time. And who could blame him? From what he heard, she was exactly his type. "Has she accepted your amorous offer then?"
"Soon." Turning his lip, Kraven's eyes flashed, glaring at him from beneath the layers of oily hair. The vampire was so sullen. So obviously foul. He was almost whispering it to himself. "I have told you, cousin. It is only a matter of time, but the affection is there. Everyone knows. Viktor knows. She knows…"
"She knows, she knows…" The man had been saying that ages. It had such a pleasant ring to it…
"She does know!"
"She means no," Lucian countered irritably, staring askance at the vampire. "Have some dignity." In answer, the lanky vampire snarled in exasperation, kicking his leg out, the wood of the pew splintering along the surface without breaking. Why was that so familiar? The rogue memory suddenly flashed before him… The dent on the pew.
Kraven kicking out…
He blinked in recognition. Of course.
The dent on the pew. The last time they met, Kraven had sat on this side of the church. The builders must have fixed it. Every twenty years, they fixed it, but then every twenty years, it popped up again. The olders priests must be going livid if they kept track of the timing. Shaking his head, he felt his second unexpected bout of laughter for the night rising in his throat, the sound resonating cruelly through the cathedral. Only silence from Kraven's end, but that was to be expected. The vampire could never experience humour at his own expense. Almost wiping his eyes, he stood up, not bothering to apologise for his wit…
"I have to go, Kraven." His voice was gruffer than it should have been… "You know my thoughts on the matter." He flipped his watch out of his pocket. 9:13 pm. It would be tight, but they could still make it. "Anything else?"
"No." Kraven shook his head, sullen as ever, the bloodless coward of Ordoghaz.
"Then it's settled. We'll discuss tactics on another occasion," Lucian smiled grimly. "Until next time." Tipping two fingers in farewell, he turned away. All things considered, the meeting had gone well. His bloodseer was bruised or dead, deathdealers had likely attacked his coach, and he was going to kill Raze when he saw him next. If he was really lucky, he might run into Viktor on his way to the docks. The keyword being 'might.'
Abruptly, he heard a biting yell calling him back, his name...his name of all things echoing a dozen times through the cathedral…"Lucian!"
Lucian…
Lucian…
His name striking a dreadfully wrong chord.
Biting his tongue, Lucian twisted around, his humour evaporating so quickly it was like unholy incense. Anger. Irritation. Raze was one thing, but Kraven…what the hell was Kraven thinking? Still as a statue, the vampire remained crouched in his seat, seeming almost abandoned in the church. Left behind. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise. The second time the man had tried to rile him up again. Unbalancing him. But for what?
He did not have to wait long.
"I know what you want me to do, cousin …" The vampire got up, uncurling his limbs. A brief pause before the vampire continued into the silence, as if he had rehearsed his lines. "…but I have plans as well. I will remind Viktor that he needs me." There was an edge to his voice that had not been there. "…and I will not have Selene murdered."
"What's this…" Lucian observed just as dangerously, at ease whenever it came to mocking his opponent. He could smell sweat coming from the vampire. There were very few times when Kraven stood up to him…truly stood up to him rather than dancing about the point, avoiding the teeth of what they both knew was a terrifying animal. "…loyalty coming from a traitor? I'm unused to the phenomenon, Kraven. Advise me on how to deal with it?"
The vampire flushed, narrowing his eyes. "I'd expect you to understand."
"Then you are naïve." He could feel his teeth growing. The change in his eyesight.
"I will not have your men purposefully hunting her."
"We all die some day, Kraven. There is little choice in that matter."
"But I have plans for her."
"You covet her," Lucian snarled. Like sweetmeats coming from a vulture. Ridiculous to be even arguing over this point. There could be no second to Viktor other than Kraven. The lady's standing therefore had to be lowered by about six feet. It was a simple concept! Aggravated, he looked up, searching for strength, the tapestries of the church hanging almost within his reach. Like all partnerships, one could not move without the other. The vulture had no backbone, so it was up to the wolf to be patient. Infuriated with the words coming out of his mouth, he finally spoke… "You have half a year, Kraven. Persuade her if you can, but during that time, plan for the worst. If Viktor chooses her in the end, we do it my way."
Ambush.
He left, turning his back on the man, stalking angrily out of the church. He had never said as much…but it was an insult to the memory of his wife. The perfect circle that Viktor would find another daughter and reinstate her in place of the first. It galled him. Infuriated him…
…and it would be his pleasure to order her execution.
Four centuries of Kraven hammering on about love and she would probably welcome it.
A/N: Finally starting writing again. (Sorry for the delay everyone. Eurocup had me at hello.) Big thank you to Sheen, Lycanlover, Juliette Louise, xo-harlequingirl-xo, JohnnyHasTheKeys, and Mackenzie for the reviews! Also to jh099, mattl2003, Orm Embar for the favourites and alerts! Please read and review everyone!
Lycanlover: Don't worry. We'll have lots more of Lucian with his hair out of order. Sexy lycan that he is...
Mackenzie: Your reviews are definitely not monotonous...at least not to me, since I love hearing good things multiple times!
Juliette Louise: Very glad you like my approach to Lucian!
xo-harlequingirl-xo: Yay Lucian and Raze moments. I love writing them...