Chapter XXXIX: Speak of the Devil
Twenty minutes later.
Oh God.
Lucian cracked open one of his eyelids. Light. Everywhere. His head swimming on the tiled floor, as the sun pierced his exterior. He was lying in the same position as the night before, the centre of his bathroom, his head directly beneath the roof lantern…except now, there were hot flecks of water stinging his face, and above him…a towering figure, its face too bright to look upon.
It occurred to him that he might be dead. Perhaps he had succeeded last night and this was hell. The devil taking the shape of a figure of light. The damned souls rising through the air, turning his dried vomit into a sea of undiscovered smells. Oh yes, this was what hell smelled like: blood-wine. Laudanum. Roses. A bit of duck…and something sticky. Except stickiness was not a smell. Neither should it have been rising out of his stomach.
Fair warning.
He tried to take hold of a chair leg and instead, hit glass…the sound of a bottle crashing to the ground, the stench growing a touch more foul as he wiped the tiles with orange preserve. It smelled like the majority had landed on his shirt, though to be fair, his eyes were closed, so for all he knew, some of it had landed on Allegra as well…in which case, it was a rousing success.
For he knew it was Allegra. He could smell her. He could always smell her. And now he got to hear her voice in his ear…Aleksey, she said…The words only just making it through the cracks. Aleksey…come now, wake up. Her perfume in his face. Roses. She was lightly tapping him across the cheek. But he'd be damned if he was going to let her wake him. Not when he was having such a good time on the floor. His stomach a bit emptier, his hair a bit wetter, his mind drifting. If the vomit was to be trusted, then he was most definitely alive…so what the devil had happened last night? Did someone stop him? Did he give up? Surely by now, he'd have the balls to kill himself…
The voice became louder.
That voice. He inhaled. How to describe it? In the one token, reserved for a special kind of hell, and in the other, deceptively charming, the sweetest German, a sound made of milk and honey, laughter and love, and beneath that, the hapless cries of drowning men. Not enough that he wanted to die, but it would seem she intended to witness the fact. Her heels clicking on the tiles, moving his chair, picking up syringes, a discarded shirt, boots, a bottle or two…
Against his better judgment, he opened his eyes.
"We have been trying to wake you for a quarter of an hour," she said. The sentence was plain. Its speaker…not so much. He blinked, trying to focus through the light. Red lips, flawless skin, the occasional flash of teeth providing ample distraction for the eyes. If he were to take his inspection further, he might say their length was gauged by how much guilt she wished upon him…
"Were you intending to use this?" She pointed at the noose casually hanging above them.
Yes...
…and to answer her next question… no, he was not feeling guilty about it either. Yes, he simply wanted to die. Was that such a problem for everyone? Almost snorting with the effort, he turned over. And what did it matter if it was a quarter of an hour or a century? He still wanted to kill himself…so as far as that noose was concerned, any passage of time was just an expression of wasted opportunities.
"Oh for goodness's sake, Lyosha, stop being so difficult…" With her skirts in hand, Allegra made a tutting sound and stepped onto the chair. "…it would not have worked anyway. You know Raze always tampers with the latch." She began picking at the noose with a sharp nail, and to no one's surprise, it was the latch rather than the knot that came loose.
He felt the last of the air leaving his lungs. So much for killing himself.
"You're not killing yourself."
"Am I talking out loud?" He aimed his sarcasm at the ceiling. Oh yes, and that smudge in the corner of his vision. He could only assume it was the one person on earth who could heat bathwater, while so blatantly disobeying his instructions. "Langley…am I addressing anyone by name, least of all you?"
"Uhm…" The smudge looked uncomfortable. "…n-no sir…"
"Then why the hell does Raze's wife keep answering me as though this were some sort of conversation?" The aggression was uncalled for…but his head was pounding. The sleep was starting to fall away and as a result, he was paying for his crimes of the previous evening.
Attempting not to grimace too tightly, he took a firm grip on the bath edge and pulled himself up. Allegra was still standing on the chair. A sure sign he ought to end it if staring up the bottom of her skirts did nothing for him. The room started to swerve. It was like finding his sea-legs and without warning, he found himself staring at a pool of unsteady water directly below, his hair hanging over, his reflection marked by ripples.
He liked water. Genuinely. Good for lots of things. Freezing, drowning…except when Raze was around; then it was crap. He heard a sigh. Clearly he was still talking out loud. He must have been staring at the water longer than he realised, for someone tried to steady him, but he pushed the hand off… He didn't need help…and though tempting it might be to take a long, hot soak, the need for sleep and solitude came higher in his list of priorities.
Sleep.
Solitude.
Still, there was no mistaking the stench. Blood-wine, laudanum, dried vomit…most of it in his hair. Hard to sleep with vomit in the hair…he used to do it all the time, but that was a lifetime ago…a different way of thinking. If everyone had vomit in their hair, then no one did…
"Uhm…yes, sir…"
He looked up from the water, briefly considering why Langley was standing so close…or Langley's hand rather…a familiar hand, pale, twitchy, the same one that opened the door for every Jezebel and Delilah needing access to his bedroom…but he digressed. There was a bottle of scented oil in the boy's hand, the label wet, but still legible.
Bay Rum.
He sounded it out a few times. Bay Rum. Rum Bay. Bayish Rum. A favourite among the upper class, a scent that reminded him of better days. Days when there was a novelty to his existence. Days when he used to leave the house, travel the world and enjoy himself. But why enjoy himself when he could spend quality time with Allegra in his bathroom? Last time it was Jacqueline…why not Jacqueline's mother next? Or Reinette? Maybe the lycan council could have a go…
Langley began to back away.
"How about some breakfast," Allegra murmured from the side, drawing his attention back to her. She was looking in a mirror, dabbing the side of her lips with a silk handkerchief. He began to wonder…if a lycan-master vomits on a floor, how easy is it to explain whether he's eaten or not…
"I meant meat," she said, looking a mite impatient, peering at the vomit before folding her handkerchief and tucking it away in one of innumerable pockets on her person. "Some marrow or quail…something light?"
No…
"Well, at least we can get some fresh air…" Stepping on the chair again, she rattled the latch, trying to get the window open. "…of course, I'm not blaming you, Langley. The smell is hardly your fault…" She frowned and then gave up on the window, instead dipping her hand into a pocket and pulling out a tiny bottle of perfume. Out of all the things she had done, this was the first that genuinely made him uncomfortable. He felt his throat seize up. He knew that bottle. He was familiar with it.
"You're not spraying that."
"Oh you're speaking to us now?" She turned. "Properly? Not just mumbling vicious anecdotes out of the corner of your mouth?" Without another word, she removed the stopper, wand and all, and flicked it around the air twice, breathing deeply and waving her hand to make it spread faster.
He felt a vein pop on his forehead.
What the…
…why the bloody…hell…was that necessary?
She had just scented his bathroom with roses. Not just any roses…her roses. And he knew that smell. He had lived with that smell and it stuck. Three weeks from now, they could have burned every piece of linen in the bathroom and that smell would still be here. The urge to bite was getting stronger. Insults would not do. Not for a pack-leader. Not for the wife of…Raze…which of course did not bother him. Why should it? Why should it be a problem for his second-hand man to have married his ex-mistress? He was standing now. He had the distinct impression that one of his eyes was bloodshot.
Langley held out a towel.
Oh good, because he wanted to wipe his face with it. He took the scented towel, flung it at the wall, and then headed for the bedroom. His bathroom. His bedroom. His territory. Everyone else…out. The bed itself coming into view like a beacon of comfort.
Yes, he thought. Yes, yes, yes…
He smeared himself into the new sheets, turned and then smeared himself again. Burying himself in the blankets, basking in the dark. Curtains drawn, sun banished. Allegra could show herself out. His body already hastening towards sleep, his mind only waiting for the necessary signs of her passing. The first: a pair of heels walking from the bathroom, Langley's feet shuffling after. The second: Allegra bending over, touching his cheek, her dress briefly in view from the right side of his bed…and the last, the most satisfying of the three: the door shutting behind them, leaving only calm. Quiet. His back relaxing, his mind falling deeper into the bed's embrace…he was alone.
Only to be woken again by the sound of his armchair being dragged over to his bed, Allegra taking time only to dust off the crumbs before sitting, her feet apparently able to come and go in silence after having left her heels by the door. Already, she was eyeing the research at the side of his bed, the empty bottles, the syringes on his bedside table. He knew what came next. One of only two mistresses with the ability to comprehend when he needed quiet, and by that virtue, able to talk at specific intervals for the mere pleasure of irritating him.
"You read Norse poetry?"
"Get…out."
She sighed. "Oh come now, Lyosha, be reasonable." Using the poetry book, she began to fan herself. "You know I cannot abide with suicide…it is so unpleasant." She was speaking English, a sure sign that she wanted something. Last time it was an extra hour in Vienna so she and Raze could enjoy each other's company. Easier to throw her out and be done with it…but then he'd have to get out of bed. Use energy. Waste time explaining to Raze why his wife had fallen three stories before being hacked into pieces with the blunt side of a book.
The book kept on fanning. "Do you want to know why I'm early," she asked.
No.
"Well, it was a very frustrating experience," she replied, holding her wrist out, admiring the ivory bracelet just visible beneath the sleeve. Somehow the bathroom splashes had failed to touch her. "The Linemaster…on your end, mind you…said there was a limit to how many bags I could bring…" She sighed. "…so I took an earlier ship, rescheduled and gave my seat to my fifth trunk." She smiled at the bracelet. "Now I want your honest opinion…should I wear this tonight?" For a moment, she looked unsure. "Do you think it's too forward?"
Considering she was already married to the man, no, but he'd rather eat dirt than entertain her with a valid opinion. "Why don't you ask Jacqueline…" he suggested. Raze could ask no more of him. A helpful suggestion for the man's ever so helpful wife. "…you can talk about it. Talk about bracelets…and perfume…you can yap at each other…"
She was still playing with the bracelet, by her expression, neglecting to notice the subtle hints he was giving her. "Yes of course," she said after a moment, the name clearly not on her list of priorities. "…Jacqueline, that poor girl, she's going to be reeling…"
He spoke without thinking. "From what?"
Allegra sank deeper in her chair. "The tears, the tension, the tragedy…ending a relationship is a frightful business, particularly with one so young…" For a moment, she paused, seeming to wait for his rebuttal. He had nothing for her. He could finally admit that with silence. She looked disappointed. "…and of course I'll comfort her, Lyosha, but it doesn't mean I approve of what you've put her through." There. She had judged him. She resumed her sweet demeanour. "…now where is she?"
"Downstairs," he said. "…without her mother." He hugged the pillow tighter. A sword might have been more useful. An axe.
He hated Jacqueline's mother. The damned woman had left for France. Her husband, Gautier, had left for France…which meant Jacqueline was staying in London…all winter…which meant, this evening, thanks to the 'rules of curfew and safety', he'd have to break off a relationship and then officially live with the woman until spring.
Just another note for his swansong, that being 'Fuck.'
"Well, I did warn you…" Allegra had always been adept at spotting the power-hungry ones, being one herself. "…theatre, dinner, gifts…" She sniffed knowingly. "…even the Line Rumour thinks you're going to propose tonight…it only makes sense for the parents to leave her in your hands—if you get cold feet, it helps seal the deal…"
He could feel his face scrunching up in the pillow. "The Line what?"
"Rumour," she finished, her laughter soft. "…that's what they're calling it, these days. The village gossip." She pulled a nail file out of his left drawer, clearly still at home in his bedroom. "Apparently, your love-life is quite popular among the common folk."
"Tosh…"
"If only." She smirked. "And to be fair, Lyosha, what point is there in surviving a war if we have nothing to talk about afterwards?" With a deft hand, she began shaping the nails. "Though I suppose, Jacqueline ought to have read her history…everyone knows you bail at the last minute…" Her eye shifted to give him a chiding look before resuming the act of lounging. "…but then who can blame her? All of us think we have something until you leave us weeping on the floor."
"…or tearing out a wall."
"Semantics." With a final brush of the nail, she put down the file. "Now how are we…" He hated it when she said 'we'. Despite the belligerent eye he was giving her, she touched his forehead. "Tired, morose…there's a bit more colour in your eyes…not so silver anymore…"
The temperature causing her to frown before she promptly banished it from her mind. "Well no one is perfect... " Picking up the file again, she sat back, resuming her manicure. "I was reading some of my letters the other day and Raze had some frightful things to say about the past few weeks. Other than the murders, I mean…" She waved that aside. "Apparently, you've been spending a great deal of time in the East Wing…far more than is necessary…"
"Who told you that?" His temper rose for a split second. All this business about the line rumour was making him uncomfortable. Like people were watching him. Not just the investors and pack-leaders, but…everyone.
"Raze." She was looking sorry for him.
His temper settled. Yes, she had said Raze, hadn't she…blood he was tired. "When?"
"Tuesday, although I just found out about the visits this morning—I mean, really Lyosha…" For Allegra, once a cat was out of the bag, she preferred to let it saunter rather than dart. "…Raze says you've been harrowing the poor woman for days now…" She paused, waiting for him to fill in the gap with details.
Not on his life.
She pursed her lips and then continued, folding her hands in her lap, crossing her legs and looking down upon him, the very image of a Victorian lady on her way to a charity ball. "In any case, you can imagine my distress when I heard." She sat up straighter, preparing herself to relay her distress. "We've been working so hard to get you in the right frame of mind, and then I receive this letter from Raze, asking if I'd come early, saying you've upped your dosage…" She waved a hand, making a scoffing noise. "Bad dreams. Insomnia. Alcoholism…"
"Read it again, nanny…"
"Aleksey, this is serious." Sniffing, Allegra bent over, taking the tone of a chiding nun, retrieving an empty bottle from the carpet. "You've only been home for two weeks, and this is the fourth bottle I've found. The fourth…you use more opium than a private hospital. Of course you are going to suffer for it."
His silence made her trail off…and her words, though kind in theory, made little impact. There was nothing as tedious as a married couple taking pity on a solitary drug-addict. And for the umpteenth time, they were focusing on the wrong issue. Drug addict, yes. Insomniac, yes. Even suicidal…but not an alcoholic. Rather than explain the difference, he dug deeper into his bed, trying to signal the end of the conversation. Maybe she would just leave…
…get tired of him.
Walk away.
He heard glasses tinkling against each other. Allegra's conversation always came in stages, the likely topic was now going to be Reinette since they'd already covered fashion and hopeless charity. She was pouring herself a drink. "So exactly why is she in the East Wing?"
"Are we still talking?" He was unable to conjure interest in his voice. Maybe he could suffocate himself. He started to push down upon the pillow.
"Yes…" She waved her drink. "…and Raze told me to keep you talking until he got back from his rounds." She was wandering among his things, picking up a knife, putting it down…taking a moment to fondle his curtains. "…and since you're an open book, we may as well talk about something that interests us both. Diversion. Something to take your mind off…" She gave a light laugh. "…and she does take your mind off, Lyosha, heaven knows why…"
He was not an open book. He was dark, mysterious, and irritated.
"And for the life of me…" She was sauntering around the room now. "…I cannot imagine what possessed you. You bargain for an exile, you give her clothes, tell me she has no memory, and suddenly, a few weeks later, I hear…" She paused for impact. "…not from Raze, mind you, but from my maid, Lyosha…my maid…" She continued. "…that you're keeping a vampire…you're keeping her…in the East Wing…and that every lycan under the sun knows about it. That…" She was winding herself up. "…that you made some sort of…official statement…what were you thinking? And then Raze keeps pointing me in the other direction whenever I ask for details.…I mean, who is she…what is she…does she know something? Is she some sort of weapon…am I not part of this political intrigue?"
The urge to curl up in a ball was now overwhelming. He was having tremendous difficulty keeping his eyes open. Once a devil-woman, always a devil-woman…and this one had spent four hundred and thirty-one years lounging around in his private and political life, for some godforsaken reason, assuming she had a stake in it.
"…and you never said she'd be in the house, Lyosha. What are the investors going to think? Four decades of getting them to think you're predictable, and then you bring home this pet…and it would be one thing, if you'd included me with everything, but no…dress her, Allegra…that's all we need from you…clothes…"
"Allegra…" He was sitting up. He was so tired…he could barely even raise his neck…and he knew there was no end in sight. She would go on…and on…and on. Two lifetimes from now, she would still be talking about Reinette. Fortunately, however much he might dislike her as 'Raze's wife,' four hundred and thirty-one years had taught him that not only did it pay to skip all the drama, but at the end of the day, she was thirty-eight when she was first Changed. Not twenty-four. Not twenty-seven. Thirty…eight. "…she's a fucking blood-seer. Alright?"
Allegra's eyes widened. "What?" She closed her mouth. "I thought they were all hunted down. You said they were executed…" She blinked. "You said they were all men…"
He held a hand up…both hands up. "Just…just keep it…to yourself…" He rolled over. This was torture. She had tortured it out of him. And to think he'd been appreciative of Raze three nights ago. The man would rue the day he sent for his wife to take care of depression. "Just…ask Raze. Ask him…and tell him everything you're telling me…and then we'll discuss it…"
"But she'll need to be…"
"I know." He was falling asleep. Reinette would need to be fully integrated before they could even consider shoving her in front of the lycan council. It was a cultural conversion, a very subtle means of drawing new exiles into the lycan way of thinking, making certain that they truly believed in the lycan cause. The only way the council would overlook a lack of integration is if she spent the rest of her natural life in prison or was dead. Fairly simple. In a manner of speaking, he had started from the very moment he stuck her in that room. Twenty years languishing in a vampire catacomb, and instead of a prison, her lycan captor entertains her with a boudoir. Clothing. Fine food.
"But she has no…"
"We're working on it," he mumbled through the pillow. "That's why I was interrogating her in the mornings…"
She might have no memories, but he assumed they could do something about that over the next few months. Particularly if Allegra was involved…she could just talk her way into Reinette's brain. That way, he could spend his time doing all the "normal" things a lycan-master ought to be doing, like not committing suicide before Christmas.
"Lyosha…" He stirred, forcing an eye open and looking to his right. Allegra was kneeling beside the bed, looking like someone had just given her a bone. Perhaps she would forgive him now for going over her head while planning Amelia's assassination. "…if I leave the room, will you be alright?"
He tried to avoid sarcasm. "No."
Utter failure.
She didn't seem to notice. "Only I was thinking of going to the East Wing for a minute. I wanted to see if Reinette's awake…" She bit her lip in a manner that told him she no longer knew how to be unattractive. "…you wouldn't mind if I left you alone, would you?" She was starting to smooth his bedsheets. "…only I thought she might like a proper visit after your escapades. You know, one woman to another…and I know Sabine has grown very fond of her in the last few weeks, which is not surprising because she was telling me—in a letter, of course—that other than riding, there's really nothing else to do here but…"
"Just…" He wanted to rip out an eye. "…go."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, refusing to show tension, as if politeness had been part of his tone. "The longer you can sleep, the better you'll be feeling." She straightened the sheet over him, a sense of contentment settling upon her scent. "Will I see you this evening?"
Half asleep, he thwacked her fingers away. She kept touching his forehead.
"Dinner at seven…" She tucked in the blanket and left a glazed ceramic bowl beside his bed. Because clearly that would be the first item that he would choose to throw up in. Not the floor. Not out the window. No, he'd throw up in a sixteenth-century Ming dynasty tea bowl. "…and I'm glad you're feeling better."
He was not.
"Although I must warn you, Lyosha…" She gave the curtains a final smooth before heading for the door. "…in your current state, you may be hard-pressed to find another pair of legs before the new year."
"Goodnight, Allegra…"
The door closed soft behind her, as though his grimace had not changed to a snarl. Her legs now permanently beyond his reach and his conscience far from caring. He was too exhausted to care. Staring at the ceiling and then burying his face until his lungs began to burn. It was going to be an unreasonably long winter, he realised bitterly.
A/N: And so we get one step closer to the fireworks. Planning to proof-read to a greater extent tomorrow morning, so you may see subtle changes here and there (nothing drastic.) Anyway, many thanks for bearing with me. As always, feel free to read and review...and with that, to the reader responses...
mas: Next chapter as promised, although five months late. ;)
FemmeFatality: It was -[blank]-!
Mackenzie: I know! I have to write down all the answers. So many questions on the Kolya front, but he is the key to something, so we'll have to hit the answers sooner or later...probably through Reinette's eyes (unfortunately, Lucian doesn't pay much attention to the inner workings of his own household...not the way he should...poor Mrs. Fulligan having to deal with everything. And if he did find out the pendant was stolen, he probably wouldn't care since in his opinion he could easily get her another one...silly Lucian. It would never occur to him that she might have grown attached to it...)
Sheen: I agree...it's interesting to see that even the worst creature are not 100% evil and that they may even started out as very good people. In the case of Kolya, I believe he's very caring to those he decides (in his own way) to be caring towards and very dangerous to those he happens to kill. Anyway, thanks, because it keeps me writing, knowing when people enjoy the stories.
FeatherEars: Welcome to the story! The review was lovely to read, and exceedingly pleased to know that you love the characterisations (particularly of Lucian and Reinette...they're definite favourites to write.) Apologies for the long break I took from writing, but hopefully, you come back and read some more as the story continues. _
Stephanie: Thank you!
Celtic Aurora: This review actually made me feel a lot more comfortable than I originally was putting up the chapter (I was initially worried about doing a primarily introspective, somewhat depressing chapter, but it felt like it needed to be written.) And you're right...the break-up is not going to be pretty. Anyway, thanks for enjoying the chapter (gave me some confidence about the style. _)
Celtic Aurora (Part II): Goodness, you're fast! I feel so much better now (I thought "yaay, I haven't lost all my readers by being silent for five months!) Anyway, thanks for the review (on chapter 38) and I too am looking forward to what's coming next (a bit nervous as well...I feel like I'm doing a mass coordination of events. Definitely need to make better us of my writing wall-space. :))
Thrior: Thank you so much for writing that. Initially when I started writing, I was a bit nervous I might have to do a crowd-pleaser, but as I've been writing the story for a while now, it seems people are more open to a different kind of heroine...and as a result, a different kind of relationship growing between characters. Once again, thanks for reading and writing that.
Ra'iira The Fiend: Me too. _
Mackenzie: The two posts were awesome. Definitely a fine reason to keep writing, and I feel terrible for letting the story sit in my head for so long without typing it out. Thankfully, I needed more Lucian as well (although it's now almost five in the morning...soooo late. Oh well. It's worth it. More Lucian! _)
And the list was brilliant (I've spent quite a while marinating my brain in that list...although most of it just comes from trying to keep the story as real as possible, so there's quite a few things that could be on the list, but just didn't make it...and then there are some things that are definitely on the list, but are going to happen later on in the story...makes an awesome excuse for knowing obscure bits of information.) Anyway, thanks for keeping me going.
Draegan88: Thank you! (And welcome to the story.)