Minor correction: Meeting w/ Xristo occurring in four days, not six (e.g. Just checked the calendar. The upcoming production and Jacqueline's birthday occur on the 18th of November, not the 20th.).
Chapter XXVII: Black for the Sake of Misery
Three nights later. The Study. 5:07 am. 14 November, 1899.
Thumbing the side of his temple, Lucian signed off on the last transfer of the night, a shipment of goods to be sent west. Dublin had requested aid for the winter months. With London rationing itself, the most he could send them was dried produce. It was not much, but it would provide a base. For a good while, he held the tip of the seal-wax over the candle, melting it slow so as to prevent streaks. It was an easy task for patient and steady fingers. With two doses of laudanum, he was neither patient nor steady. He was exhausted. Before the wax was ready, he applied it to the envelope, working it until the circle was large enough, applying the seal when he was finished.
It streaked.
Biting back an expletive, he got up from the desk, stalked to the door of his study and handed the communiqué to the hooded lycan waiting outside. The man bowed his head and hustled down the hallway. He smelled her before she spoke. Rena. Hidden by shadow, she was waiting on the stairs, holding back until he acknowledged her presence. He considered shutting the door, but realised he did not have a decent enough excuse for turning her away. They had already discussed her wages and schedule in the morning, but perhaps she required some clarification on her orders.
At his nod, Rena followed him into the study, closing the door behind her and moving to stand before his desk. Most lycans could sense when he needed to be left alone, so either this was very important or she had lost her mind. He took a seat, clearing the wax shavings away, making a strong effort to sound as if he really meant the words coming out of his mouth. "How can I help?"
Rena stared forward. "The prisoner wishes to leave her room."
"Her request is denied," he said. There was a reason Reinette was in confinement. "Is she eating?"
Rena nodded.
"Sleeping?"
"Yes."
"Good," he said. "Report back by the end of the month. I will have arranged a tutor by then. You are dismissed." Bending to his right, he opened one of the lower drawers, searching for the address of that watchmaker. In spite of the murder that had occurred, life went on as usual in the lycan den. Bills were paid, investments were made, and mistresses were avoided.
That meeting with Xristo would not occur for another four days. Raze had been quick to point out the benefit of snapping two birds with one bite. Jacqueline would have her outing and Mr. Alexander Kerr would have a legitimate excuse for being in the West End. Some rubbish called 'Floradora.' It sounded terrible. He would be in the mood for ripping heads off once it was finished, so it was fortunate the meeting would take place after curtain call.
He heard a woman clear her throat. Briefly, he looked up. Rena had not moved. He smiled, taking out his address book and starting to flip ever so slowly through its pages. It was hard pretending his head was not throbbing. "I take it you have a very good reason for prolonging this meeting?"
He waited.
Amber orbs glinting in the dark, Rena eyed him. Her smell was difficult to read. Her nostrils flared…she was scenting him out. Without a word, she turned around and left. When the door closed behind her, he snapped his book shut. What…the hell…was that about? Rena making a request on behalf of Reinette was akin to Jacqueline asking to join Parliament. They could not be friends yet. It was too soon. Was the woman actually in need? Sabine was convinced Mrs. Fulligan had poisoned her, but that was next to poppycock. His fingers began tapping on the book cover. Curiouser and curiouser.
Perhaps he could find a free moment in his schedule after all.
…o…o…o…
The East Wing. Wednesday, 15 November 1899.
It was just after one in the morning.
Reinette was seated on the floor, her back pressed against one of her chairs and a blanket draped over her shoulders. At present, she was dressed in a pair of white drawers and a linen chemise. Her hair was uncombed, and she could not remember the last time she had used her tooth-rag. As she would be spending the rest of her life in this gilded coffin, she would rather be comfortable than clothed in propriety.
Quite resigned to her fate, she picked up her bowl, reading over the rim as she drank the remains of her dinner. She was in the middle of what appeared to be the first volume of a novel entitled Le Comte de Monte-Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. The Count of Monte-Cristo. She had found it amongst her books, perhaps a gift from the bastard at large. As far as she could tell, it was the dark story of a wrongfully-accused Frenchman landing in prison for the rest of his life. Either fate was ironic or this was a bad joke on the part of Lucian. Her instinct favoured the second option. She had a dictionary beside her for some of the larger words, but as yet, she had not used it. As she read, the narrator in her head assumed the mournful, grey shade of a pallbearer bringing her sad tidings of Edmund Dantès.
"Dantès asked to be removed from his present dungeon into another; for a change, however disadvantageous, was still a change, and would afford him some amusement. He entreated to be allowed to walk about, to have fresh air, books, and writing materials. His requests were not granted, but he went on asking all the same."
From the right, she heard Rena open the adjoining door. On her way out, the woman paused in front of her. Without looking up, Reinette handed her the empty bowl. She had stopped asking Rena questions. The woman fed her, added coal to the grate, and did the laundry. The main door was never unlocked and she was never alone for more than two hours at a time. She heard the woman's steps taking her away and the key rattling in the door. Here lies Reinette, she thought carelessly, aware that she was starting to smell quite bad. Buried alive with a woman whose idea of answering a question consisted of shrugging. She stretched out on her front, letting her legs cross at the knee. The book balanced between her thumbs and index fingers. The text was predictably depressing. She started cleaning her teeth with her tongue.
"He accustomed himself to speaking to the new jailer, although the latter was, if possible, more taciturn than the old one; but still, to speak to a man, even though mute, was something. Dantès spoke for the sake of hearing his own voice; he had tried to speak when alone, but the sound of his voice terrified him."
She heard the key rattle and the door open. Rena had returned. As usual, she did not look up. There was no point in looking up. No point in getting off the floor. The French pallbearer in her head continued to intone the sorrow of Dantès…and so it was with some shock that she heard the deep voice of Lucian joining him rather than the door closing.
"Oh my word, Reinette…" A thoughtful pause before he murmured, "…what have you been doing?"
She looked up…and then got to her feet, dropping the book. Lucian was in the doorway, staring at her with a rather grim, yet bemused expression on his face. She had not washed in four days. But then he had forgotten her for five. Narrowing an eye at him, she picked up her book and folded herself in one of the chairs, her back to him. May he choke on the stench, she thought. It was easy for him to come and go as he pleased, but she had to live here. If he needed her services, she would accommodate him, but if not, she was in the middle of a depressing passage, thank you very much.
The door closed and he walked in, sniffing the air and taking the other seat. Her eyes flicked once from and then directly back to the page she was reading. Well-dressed, clean, his hair trimmed. Oh he would have a night on the town with this one. What was it he called her on the Marie-Therese? 'A clean lady such as yourself…' She waited for the sarcasm, but instead he gave only silence, his hand thumbing his chin as if for once, he was truly speechless.
For a good ten minutes, he said nothing, scrutinising her with that damned expression on his face. When he spoke, it was in Latin. Like her appearance made him want to plead to the gods, though his voice only gave boredom for their favour. "You do realise it has only been five days?"
"I can count," she said under her breath.
Her answer drew a ghost of a smile. "Your quarters are not to your taste?"
"Very comfortable."
"Your food?"
"Delicious."
He exhaled, more of a light dip than a washing of hands. "Well then what the devil is the matter with you?"
"Do I not look alright?" she asked, lowering her book. "Do you need me to dress for someone?"
"Of course not," he replied, sitting back in the chair with tranquil abandon. "…but you could wash. If I'm not mistaken, there is a bronze basin through that…"
"I know the layout, Lyosha." She closed her book with a clap. "The quarters are beautiful and I am thankful." Swiping her nightgown from the ground, she took both book and nightgown and stalked to her bed. "Thank you," she grunted for good measure, tossing the items behind the drapes before crawling in.
"Reinette…" She could hear the faintest mirth in his voice as he called her back, but she ignored him, remaining seated in the dark with Monte-Cristo. Her solitude was not the problem. Neither was Lucian. She had been pleased to see him. Pleased that he not thrown her in a dreaded catacomb as he had promised. Pleased that he had not forgotten her, yet what was the point in being pleased when her life would be a flat sea with the occasional iceberg?
Perspective.
That was what had changed in the past five days. This lycan was not her friend. He was her enemy. "For blood, woman…" His voice had not moved from his seat. "…are you ill?" When she did not answer, he exhaled a second time, seemingly at his own question, a soft undercurrent in the room. "Sabine tells me you were poisoned with dust. Twice I had to convince her you were well, and now I scarcely know whether to keep lying to her."
Oh he was a cur. "Lying to her?" she asked. There was rancorous bite beneath her question. Despite her decision to remain calm whenever she saw him, she had begun to lose her dedication. "How would it be a lie, Lyosha?" She opened the drapes, stepping out onto the carpet again. "Am I not comfortable? Do I not have food, warmth, and constant company? Am I not …" Wrenching the nightgown aside, she found the book and held it up. "…entertained?"
Her anger seemed to slide off his person. He squinted at the spine. "Le Comte de…" Without finishing, he began to laugh, his head angling back against the chair. As if all had become clear with those first three words. "Merciful heavens, woman…are you being serious?"
She flinched. "You are laughing at me?"
"Yes." He reached behind him, pulling the cushion off the chair and chucking it to ground. The lack of comfort seemed to suit him. "How can you possibly compare your situation to Edmund Dantès?"
She let the book drop with a thud. "We are both in prison."
"And he was whipped for his trouble…" His eyes were reflecting coals, but the light danced in the grey. "…I see no shackles, woman. No whips. Until he finds the treasure of Monte-Cristo, you are nothing like Edmund Dantès…"
She clapped her hands to her ears, cutting him off too late. "Must you ruin the book for me?"
"How else are we going to get you out of this ill mood," he shrugged, getting up and starting to pace around the room, eyeing the disorderly mess. "You've been moping about for five days thinking you resemble a French prisoner trapped on Chateau d'If."
"There is nothing wrong with my mood." Disgruntled, she picked up Monte-Cristo again.
"For bloods' sake, look at yourself." His voice was sharp. "Six nights ago, you were calm, clean, and self-possessed." Mirroring her action, he picked up the dictionary, putting it on her writing desk. "I suggest you put the book down and take a bath."
"No," she said. She was happy with her depression, and that basin could stay dry for a decade as far as she was concerned.
"No…" he grunted, the sound of someone who had done everything. "…what do you need?" He stalked up to her, plucking the book out of her hand, muttering as he turned his back on her. "A walk? Fresh air? I swear, you'd pollute the grounds if I let you out."
"In that case, leave me alone," she muttered. What had he expected? He asked her once if she enjoyed solitude and then he expected her to glide serenely about her prison as if she were looking forward to the next century. "…I would rather be comfortable in this gilded cage than flitter around your den pretending I am enjoying myself."
"Even in your youth, I doubt you could 'flitter', Reinette…" He moved to her desk, opening one of the drawers at random and dropping the book inside. "…and in spite of that, I will take this as a plea for sanity. If you wish it, we will take a walk in the corridor. Somewhere grim and miserable to suit your mood."
"Walls for walls. I am obliged to you, lycan-master." She curtsied at the knee, mocking his gesture. She did not care if she left the room. But again, her anger did not slight him in any way. He barked a laugh at her curtsy, his teeth swept into a half-grin that almost robbed his eyes of the grey. He was not exactly ugly for a lycan…and it was hard not to smile when he did. She locked her jaw.
He seemed to sense as much. "Do you know, Reinette…I have not once seen a genuine smile on your face?"
"You never will," she said evenly. Without breaking his gaze, she took the pendant from around her neck and dropped it on the ground. The same spot she had dropped it five days ago. Blood knew why she continued to wear it.
Eying the pendant, he leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as if she had challenged him. "A single smile, Reinette…" He tilted his head, his good cheer swallowed by the movement as if he had cut it in half. He still had that gift, the guise of one who could change his emotions on a coin. "…what will it take?" He was in bartering mode.
She did not budge. "Freedom."
"Fresh air."
"Done."
He nodded. "Take a bath first before we go. Ten minutes on the outside in exchange for a smile." He had resumed his previous expression. "Tell me, are you sure this will work?" He almost tripped her as she passed by, as though his boot was the only thing worth prodding her with.
She dodged without smiling. "You receive payment when I breathe something other than lavender."
He raised an eye. "You hate lavender?"
She did not answer.
Taking the time to kick one of the scent-balls out of the toilette, she shut the door behind her. She heard Lucian crouch and then sniff, before he walked back across the room to take his seat again. The water in the basin was still there, cold as the Arctic. Rena had filled it every morning, but she had been in steadfast in ignoring it. Now she stripped and managed to hold her tongue as she washed, trying to warm herself by scrubbing her skin. The water turned black. When she was finished, she dried herself with the towel and then eyed her discarded clothing. It smelled bad. There were blood stains on it. She looked at the door.
"Lyosha."
"Reinette." He sounded preoccupied as if he had found something incredibly interesting to do while he waited. Something that her voice was intruding upon…
"I…" Her voice was harsh. An intrusion. She broke off. The towel was too small to wrap around her form. He had seen her naked, but somehow it was more embarrassing to ask him for her undergarments. "…never mind," she muttered through the door, holding up the towel, thinking how best to go about this.
"What do you want?" His question was a soft bark.
She barked back. "Can you turn around?"
Instead of answering, he exhaled. "If you need something, Reinette, ask for it. We have less than five hours until sunrise and I expect your request for fresh air does not extend to…"
"Clothing," she hissed. "Now can you please turn, so I may get some?"
There was silence. She waited to hear him answer, but instead, without so much as a moan, she heard him get up and the sound of her wardrobe opening. She heard the hangers being moved aside, one after the other as if nothing was quite to his taste. Was he…picking her wardrobe? He was…lycan. The hangers stopped and with a rustle of cloth, she heard his footsteps approaching, his finger knocking once against the door.
She opened it by a crack.
He was leaning against the side with the black widow's dress. "Black for the sake of misery," he murmured with a smile. He had switched to French.
"Or mourning," she replied in French, snatching the dress and shutting the door.
From beyond, she heard him laugh, his footsteps returning to the seat. "Whenever you are ready, mademoiselle." His words were confident as he sat back. "Whenever you are ready." It made Reinette look at the door. Oddly enough, though he bartered for smiles, she was certain his smile had faded as soon as the door had closed. She looked at the dress he had chosen for her and then stepped into its skirt, hurrying before he changed his mind. Fresh air. The night sky.
Blood, she had not seen the stars in weeks.
A/N: Sorry for the long gap between updates and hopefully, people are still reading. Thank you to ThranduilsDaughter, trestreschic, Sheen, Mackenzie, Zarelle, Glass Skin, st elmo-lover, jh099, seren23, Epilachna, Tobias Corvinus, Linden65, emolistic, DaniD32, Sky-Pirate325, Ageku, keili77, and Anneke15 for the reviews, favourites, and story alerts! Hope the latest two chapters do not disappoint (as per usual, I will be checking them for errors or the next day or two.) Please feel free to read and review.
ThranduilsDaughter: I'm not sure I would describe Lucian's attitude as "playboy," but I suppose that's your prerogative. I've always considered him to be the kind that could smoothly adapt to a situation for the sake of his own needs. He's smart and he's quick on his feet. Jacqueline required attention and he was willing to adapt to that to keep her quiet. In the past, he adapted his answers to meet Viktor's wishes and in the future, he bit his tongue and said "please escort our guests" rather than "Kraven, you ass, what are you doing here?" As for making a believable storyline for the relationship of Lucian and Reinette (as opposed to Rena), hopefully it'll be something that works for you. But just remember, the most believable relationships are ones that are not perpetually nice. We also have to remember, Lucian is no longer the same person he was in Rise of the Lycans. Sonja is dead. It makes little to no sense for him to treat Jacqueline or any of his mistresses in the same manner that he treated her. Thankfully, Reinette is still not on his radar, so it's actually believable that this friendship might start to work out.
trestreschic: I must admit, my initial thoughts of the film were quite critical, but after watching it two more times, I came to my senses. Lucian was very delicious (in spite of finding shampoo, soap, and conditioner from God knows where in the final scenes of the film. One minute, he's bloody. The next minute, he's clean. At least he's still sexy.) In future, we will be seeing Sabas (the Gathering of the Horde), and as of this and the next chapter, Xristo will be featuring in the story as well. I don't want to say too much about Reinette, but just as a hint, she will be regaining her youth before she gets her memories back. Glad you're addicted to the writing!
Sheen: Glad you enjoyed the chapters! I must admit, I can't wait until they release the film on bluray or dvd. I need to be able to study what's going on in those background scenes (I think I need to make a catalogue of every item in Lucian's smithy and Sonja's room.)
Mackenzie: Rena is indeed collected, and at times, I think she might see a lot more than she lets on. Anyway, I love that you got the humour of Jacqueline and Lucian. The forbidden fruit is tasty at first, but rotten on the tongue once you've taken a bite. On a sidenote, speaking of Lucian's neglect for his mistresses, I am so looking forward to the contrast between his neglect and the almost thoughtless attention he pays to a certain lady locked in the east wing. Just think about the havoc there's going to be when she gets young. Politics. Mistresses. The Horde. In theory, every lycan is still expecting him to shack up with a strong lycan woman, so the last thing they want is for him to get a hankering for the one species he politically and socially should not be pursuing (but then that's Lucian for you. He's confident. He's proud. And speaking of the film, he's rubbish at keeping his eyes on the ground. If he cannot have it, he naturally wants it.) Oops. Sorry to go on! Hope you've seen the film by now and glad you're still enjoying the chapters.
Zarelle: Welcome to the story and glad to read your review! I will indeed continue.
Glass Skin: Yay, I was so glad Kolya freaked someone else out besides myself (His thoughts are downright unnerving!) Anyway, more updates are coming and indeed more Kolya going bonkers, though people will not be aware of it for at least a few more chapters. He's actually rather lucky, though I doubt he'd be aware of it.
st-elmo-lover: Very glad you're enjoying my Lucian, as well as Reinette. She'll be getting back a few memories, so we'll be getting some hints as to where she came from and what she was seeking in Budapest twenty years ago. Thanks for the review!
jh099: Thank you for dropping that review! You have pinpointed the reason I love Underworld. Style, a few excellent characters, and a really cool mythos. The surface always hinted at depth without diving fully into the history (at least until Rise of the Lycans, which I'm still on the fence about.) Anyway, I hope the detail never fails to intrigue and that you continue to enjoy the story as you read.
seren23: I'm so glad you enjoyed the puzzle-scene! That was one of those moments mid-chapter when I thought oh my goodness...Lucian. You could solve that puzzle with your eyes closed. You even know all the arrangements. Why? Because you made it, that's why. Delicious blacksmith that he is. Anyway, thanks for reading and enjoying!
Epilachna: Hey Epi, I have a feeling Reinette will fit in with certain members of the den, but not all. Whatever happens, she's a vampire in the den as opposed to living in exile's quarters. Right away that makes her an outcast. As for Kolya's dream, I've discussed in some detail at the bottom of chapter 25, so rather than give away loads, we'll leave it at that. Regarding the film, I was definitely critical of it the first time around, but after two or three more times of wathing it, I've started sitting back and enjoying it for the good parts.
Tobias Corvinus: Yay! Thanks for the great review!
Reference Note:
All passages from the Count of Monte Cristo were found at the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive. Both the English and French texts were provided, and hold a status of being no longer under copyright in the US. For the sake of interest, the French text has been included below if anyone feels like reading exactly what Reinette would have been reading. She is on the first page of chapter 15, entitled "Number 34 and Number 27."
Source: etext/1184
"Dantès pria donc qu'on voulût bien le tirer de son cachot pour le mettre dans un autre, fût-il plus noir et plus profond. Un changement, même désavantageux, était toujours un changement, et procurerait à Dantès une distraction de quelques jours. Il pria qu'on lui accordât la promenade, l'air, des livres, des instruments. Rien de tout cela ne lui fut accordé; mais n'importe, il demandait toujours." (Chapter XV)
"Il s'était habitué à parler à son nouveau geôlier, quoiqu'il fût encore, s'il était possible, plus muet que l'ancien; mais parler à un homme, même à un muet, était encore un plaisir. Dantès parlait pour entendre le son de sa propre voix: il avait essayé de parler lorsqu'il était seul, mais alors il se faisait peur." (Chapter XV)