Chapter XXII: Hunger Without End
Just off the coast of Dover, England. 3:21 pm
She opened her eyes. Darkness. She was still in the box, but there were sounds around her, rocking beneath her. The movement of a ship. Someone was walking on wooden boards, circling the box, tapping what sounded like paper against a palm. She held her breath, listening, her first instinct regrettably that of fear. The last time she had woken in one of these boxes, the cover had been wrenched off, followed by Rena dragging her from its interior. She looked down, spying the empty bottle where it had rolled into the corner. The effects were not as strong as Bikavér, but she still had a faint headache. Her knees were getting sore. The walls of the box were too close. Suppressing the fear, she spoke out calmly…
"Is that you, Lyosha?"
Her prowler said nothing, but from the right, she heard a muffled laugh, the babble of water that was Sabine. She breathed, some of her fears melting away. The girl might be precocious, but the gift of the comb, however illicit, had more or less softened her heart towards her. From inside, she knocked against the side of the safe-box, the black cloth muffling the sound of the wood. "Sabine," she murmured cordially, using the familiar form of Russian address. "…if you please, I am trying to sleep. Ask Lyosha to stop being so loud." The girl must have been sitting on the same level, for she heard the laughter multiply, the sound of a seated girl rolling back as if the humour were too much for her. Through the wood, she heard Sabine stand, the rustle of cloth followed by the soft knock of two feet landing upon her box. Reinette looked up. The girl was standing directly above her, facing what certainly must be Lucian. Had he forgiven her yet for arguing with him in the tunnel?
"Lyosha," the girl declared boldly in Russian. "…you are too loud. Be quiet."
"You are too short. Grow a little." Hearing the rolling sarcasm of Lucian, she felt her lips stretch further by a very small margin. There he was. Sarcastic bastard. Until he answered, she had mildly considered that it might be Raze on the other side, in which case, she was antagonising a lycan over two times her size.
Sabine's voice piped up again. "Can she come out?"
"Not yet."
She could almost see the girl, like a silent predator, idling from one side of the box to the other, her feet barely making a sound despite the hollow space beneath her. "Can she come out now?" She was very precocious.
"I am still thinking on it," he said pointedly. As if he could think about thinking all night and if he wanted to, he'd leave her in that box for the entire period. The circling did not stop, but she heard the paper in his hand crumple, the pages falling onto the floor. Sabine stayed where she was.
"I will be quiet." The girl was bargaining.
He said nothing.
Leaning back, Reinette smiled, waiting for the inevitable, confident now that Sabine had spoken for her. It would not be long before the box opened. As much as it was possible, Sabine had him wrapped around her little finger. Or claw. The two feet leaped off the box and without so much as a nail coming loose, the cover came off. Trust Lucian to continue thinking on it after having taken out the nails already.
There…
…she was out.
Blinking from the sudden light, she shaded her eyes, feeling the brightness of a lamp upon her face. A lamp? There was no lamp. The light came from a miniature chandelier fashioned out of glass, the three candles at its centre seeming to grow out of a pool of lilies. An ornate ceiling covered in white panelling. She frowned at the ceiling. Where were they? After so many hours of sitting, it was a minute before she could get to her knees, slow at first and then stumbling as she saw the style of room they were situated in. Everything came shakily into focus. By no means could this ship compare to the one they had first embarked on.
Beneath the box she stood in, there was a thick carpet, the colours red, gold, and black, like a line of flame-trees woven from some distant land beyond the borders of Europe. There was gilding everywhere. Dark wooden tables, chests, a king-sized four-poster bed large enough to be a ship in itself. Every window had shutters and drapes thicker than the carpet. On one of the larger tables, in front of what was clearly a dining chair, there were two glasses of blood. A plate of raw meat that had been barely picked at, the knife and fork leaving a red smear on the red cloth. She looked down. Pages on the floor, the writing imperceptible from this distance. On the other side of the room, Lucian was slouching in a chair, the fire-grate at his back. A firegrate…on a ship. He was chewing on his pen, eying her. Gauging her reaction it would seem.
Under his scrutiny, she realised her veil was missing, scrunched up in another corner of the box. Quickly, she leaned down, snatching it up. There seemed no sense in putting it on, but she returned it to one of the side-pockets of her dress. She would have to climb out of the box. It would be cumbersome, so half in shock, half stalling for time, she turned instead, looking up and down, not quite believing what she was seeing. She had known he dressed expensively sometimes, but she had not expected this. It was as bad as the coven…as rich as the coven. How many years had he spent in hiding, storing his worldly goods? How could a lycan have so much to his name? Was this a front?
"You are…" She would have to breathe in order to finish the sentence. There was gold on the siding of the plate. Golden forks and knives. She was stumbling on the word. "You are…"
"Rich," he said. He had the look of a man no longer interested in his own wealth. "…I assume that was where you were going with that statement?" He put the pen on a side-table.
"But you are…"
"Affluent, well-off…well-to-do…"
"But how did you…"
"Another time. Ten years from now. Sabine, find her a chair." He was being very brusque again. While he spoke, he started eying his hand and to her shock, one of his fingers moved up to his mouth. Lucian, the great lycan-master, was unceremoniously biting one of his nails, an expression of great boredom on his face. Such a mundane habit, it served to ground her in the airy gilding that was this room. Sore, she climbed out of the box, holding the skirt of her dress gingerly. It caught on the siding and she almost fell, but Sabine reached out, steadying her with a hand. She nodded. "Thank you."
"Yes. Thank you, Sabine," Lucian muttered, sitting cross-legged on the chair now. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his coat on the floor behind him. His words had been very insincere. No wonder the girl was running around trying to make up for his rudeness. But seeming to take his words to heart, the girl curtsied solemnly and walked to the door. She opened and closed it almost silently behind her, leaving them alone.
Alone.
Why did that feel strange? First, a beating, now a bed-chamber. What was going on? She had never been prudish, but it felt…wrong…standing alone with him in his bed-chamber with his shirt open. She blinked, focusing on the chair, opening her mouth to dispel some of her unease. At least she was not naked this time.
"We are on our way to…" She had to get used to it. She sat. "…England?"
He looked up from his nail. "England. Yes…" There was a pause, and then using the armrest to propel himself off his chair, he crossed the room, moving to stand in front of her. Studying her again. Without a word, he walked to the dinner table and picked up one of the glasses. He held it out. "Three drops, Reinette. I think it is time we began fulfilling the terms of our deal."
No…she had hoped they would…that they would begin once the journey was over. A single drop brought nausea. Two brought the blood back up. Three and she'd be bedridden. She knew her face was falling. "Very well." She held out her hand for the glass and he gave it to her, their fingers touching for a moment. His skin was still hot from being so near to the grate. "May I ask whose blood it is?"
"I will not answer."
She nodded. At least he was honest. Resigned, she touched her finger to the blood and let the first drop fall on her tongue. The sharp taste, the whisper of secrets at her back. The second drop. She was swaying, moving towards the ground. The third drop. In the faintest corner, she saw Lucian stepping forward, rescuing the glass from her hand before she fell from the chair. All for the vision. All he cared for was the vision. Blackness took her as the words tumbled out. Words she could not stop.
"Leaves upon fire, her face, for she lies on the brink of a chasm. Drink, she will not, for light bears the darkness, the cold inside, the creature that is not among us. Eat, she will, for her crime. Hunger without end. Grief without…"
She gasped, forcing the last word out before the end. "…fury." Coughing, she folded over her knees, her stomach caught in a spasm, the room sweeping forward out of the black. It felt like her insides were made out of glass. Broken glass. For a full minute, she stayed where she was, breathing…unable to stand. Lucian had not moved. He was… He was beside her. She still could not stand, but he raised her up, securing her arm around his neck, picking her up as if she were fragile, the incarnate wine glass he had poisoned her with. She could not speak yet. Nausea. Such pain in her side.
Carrying her across the room, he laid her out on the bed, unfolding one of the blankets from the foot, covering her with the warmth. Despite his rough handling of the blanket, he was careful, avoiding touching her side, even drawing one of the pillows closer to her front, so she could grip it as another spasm took her. Kindness and cruelty in the same creature. He poisoned her and then sought to ease her pain. It did not make the situation better. Leaving her there, he returned to his chair, looking into the fire, seeming to brood on her vision. Writhing on the bed, the question remained in her mind. Whose blood had that been that it warranted a vision worth three drops? Like the ivory comb, it was not difficult to deduce its source.
Sabine.
It had to be hers. The girl had been clothed in grey, covered from head to toe. There could easily have been a scar already healing on her arm, a small cut where Lucian had bled her…
…and as always, the words were fleeting, already fading from her conscience.
Grief. Hunger. …and a crime. What horrors were in store for that child?
"Lyosha," she managed weakly. Using her elbows, she wrestled herself up against the side of the pillow. Goosedown. It was almost worth the pain of having given a vision of three drops that she could now lie in this cloud of a bed. But when he looked up, his eyes were as cold as the night he almost Changed in that carriage. He had not liked the vision. No one ever liked the vision. They only ever wanted to hear good things. She would lose consciousness soon…but she had to…say something. Why she thought to comfort this creature, she did not know…but Sabine did not deserve to be branded with a vision that would taint his view of her.
"They do not always come true," she whispered. He needed to know…he needed to remember. "…they are only…" Her voice was fading. "…prospects." Again the black took her.
This time, for sleep…
She would have to sleep for a while.
An entire day.
A/N: Thank you to Epilachna, Mackenzie, Quinn, Sheen, aghostofanelvishrose, Johnnyhasthekeys, and KeiriiNight for the latest reviews and favourites! We will be hitting London in the next chapter.
(Just as a note on Lucian's wealth, it does make sense from a practical standpoint. In order to do what he does, he has to have an increasing amount of money coming in. Being on the down-low for six hundred years can have that kind of effect on your bank account. A huge amount of it goes into the upkeep of the Line anyway. As for the expensive digs, just remember, it's the nineteenth century and the lycans are no longer ratting about with collars on their necks. They tend to feel better knowing their leader is well-established in his own werewolf version of Downing Street. Even if he's tired of it.)
Epilachna: Yes, Rena's definitely going to be fleshed out a bit and I'm afraid she is an addict. (She was sensible, but the last few years have not been so good for her.) On the topic of Lucian's paternal instincts, I think it's one of those situations where a cat (the child) really loves being around a particular person who is generally allergic to cats (or children.) He's brusque and he probably hasn't the faintest idea why children like him, yet somehow they do. I think he cares about her, but...there's more to Sabine's background than that. He's still Lucian...which in my view means he's still got a cold, logic-based reason for why he keeps Sabine close to him. (And to be honest, it's not a very nice reason. But then the readers will have to be the judge of that when they find out what it is...)
Mackenzie: You got the exact feeling of Chapter 20 that I wanted. Now I'm pleased. Glad you like the updates. We'll find out more about Sabine as the chapters progress.
Quinn: Welcome on-board! Very glad you adore the story and regarding Reinette's youth, yes. She will eventually be young again. I'm starting to be more open about that fact, though it was a while before I wanted to spill the beans. (You can find more details under the Plot Note addition at the bottom of chapter 16: Blindfold in the Bath...) To be honest, I just finished putting together the exact details of how she becomes young last night...so we'll be seeing that unfold after she gets settled in London.
Sheen: Don't worry, I can't help loving Sabine either. Very pleased to hear the relationship between Lucian and Reinette is coming across well!
aghostofanelvishrose: I think he definitely thinks he's surrounded by idiots most of the time. We'll see more about Sabine over the coming chapters, though if we were to find out that she was his, personally, I don't think he would feel too guilty about not being true to Sonja at this point. He still holds her as his number one, but it is six hundred years later. He's moved past the phase where he can't have other relationships. Anyway, I can't wait for the new movie either! One more week!
Johnnyhasthekeys: Yay, you're still reading! Glad you liked the chapter, and there will be more coming as soon as I get another chance to type in the wee hours of the morning. (Best time for writing...)