Chapter IV : Travel Arrangements

The Hamburg Den.
Time: 4:00 am

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

Flipping over in the darkness and hauling his drowsy body to the edge of a king-sized mattress, Lucian, keeper of the lycan hoard and alpha of twelve packs, began his pitch-black morning by peering suspiciously at a particularly dangerous-looking spread of carpet. Disheveled hair hanging past his forehead. The shadows melting hazily into one another as he squinted, still half-asleep and not entirely sure where the sound was coming from. Instinctively, he began to blink as his retinas adjusted…the nightvision kicking in and a belligerent growl emanating from his throat. His fur rising. The eyes narrowed with the silvery glaze of lycan temper. Twitching as he scoped out the room, befuddled by this unrelenting noise, but still knowing the sound…vaguely. Eyes hunting the shadows…tracking the room for motion…and sighting…

…an alarm clock reading.

4:02 am.

Immediately, his fur dropped. The confusion and sleep bitten in half as he realized the mechanical form of his enemy. Turning onto his back again, the lycan master proceeded to entangle himself further through the satin sheets…an enormous pillow now clutched over his head. Curling as he stretched fingers and toes…allowing a slight yawn to escape even as he flinched wakefully at the echo still resonating through his goose down. A moment passed breathing in and out. In and out. Taking in the cozy, warm air as he mentally prepared himself…

Everything packed. Short notice booking for a flight to Trondheim, but Nadia had sorted it out. The plane left Hamburg at 6:55. Arrived in Copenhagen around 7:45. He'd spend a brief layover twiddling his thumbs in a first-class lounge before embarking on a two-hour flight to Værnes airport, located about twenty-one miles east of the actual city. The only drawback…

…airplane food.

Grimacing, Lucian finally removed his face from the pillow and sat up, shoving his sheets to the foot of the bed with a discontented sigh. Noting the absence of his duvet. A glance to the right found it scrunched up on the floor along with three extra pillows he'd cast from his bedside while sleeping. Eleven centuries and deep down inside, he still longed for a pallet made of straw. Yawning loudly, he cast a sullen glare at the abusive alarm clock located just out of reach and still squeaking its appalling homage to sunrise.

Although he knew it had purpose, it had become a daily ritual…this decision to destroy or not destroy the damned mechanism of hell trained to wake him at odd hours of the morning. Eventually…after several confrontations between his claws and the sleep button, he'd taken to placing the clock several feet away from his bed just to give it a fighting chance.

And a good thing too…

Rising from the bed and noticing, at the very least, he'd kept his pajama bottoms on, Lucian sleepily stalked to the alarm clock, turning it off before entering his master bathroom. Cringing at the icy tiles and splashing cold water on his face. The room still smelled of perfume…and scrunching his nose slightly at Mylla's lingering scent, he moved back into the bedroom, immediately heading for the miniature fridge. Located near the balcony window, it contained the regular "lycan master" fare. Enzymes, blood-alcohol, painkillers…a small stash of vitamins. Four bags of blood. A cut of venison. After heating the first blood bag in a microwave (streamlined and subtly camouflaged with cloth), he swiftly deposited the warm contents into a glass and downed it. Licked the red off his fingers. Watching the empty street outside through the thick drapes as he moved onto the second bag…

…and the third.

Although ravenous from skipping dinner last night, he had no intention of gorging himself sick on his usual venison repast. Instead…a light breakfast before traveling. No meat.

Soon running a bone-handled comb through his dark locks, the lycan master next proceeded to the armoire, tying his hair back with a black leather cord. Dressing easily in the darkness, having picked out his clothes the night before…

Aware of his guise in travel, he had strategically abstained from wearing his treasured leather pants (though they were the anchor of his rather consistent wardrobe.) Instead, he now adorned himself in the comfortable attire of a rather striking businessman. Dark silken shirt, black in the face of night, but in truth, possessing a tinge of red to it.

The elegant jetsetter meets the wolf, he thought with a sly grin, buttoning the soothing fabric over his undershirt, while checking the rest of his items off the armoire as he donned them. Black suit. Cuff links. Rolex. Wire-rimmed aviators (bloody expensive…no less.) Briefcase.

He skipped the tie.

As he was considering the overcoat (entering his wardrobe, there was a long line of options available for braving the elements,) the phone suddenly rang and, momentarily stepping out of the closet, he answered it. Nadia. Frowning and already heading back to his former activities, he listened carefully to the update on his travel arrangements…all-the-while running his fingers meticulously through fabric. Eventually happening upon a winter-coat to his liking. Dark suede. Thick material. Cashmere scarf to match. Black gloves of hand-stitched leather. After several seconds of listening to the lycan travel mistress, Lucian nodded carelessly and hearing all he needed to know, responded with a short "Auf Wiederhören" before hanging up.

The latest news. Magnus was informed of his arrival through the Line. The head of the Northern packs would be waiting for him in Trondheim. The reason for the alpha's visit…inspection…though his old friend of the North no doubt suspected there was more to it than just lycan protocol.

Almost fully dressed, Lucian now chose a pair of dark boots from his wardrobe…suitable for winter, yet still appropriate to his apparent style of business. He left the wardrobe, turning towards the full-length mirror standing to his left.

A quick check of his teeth…and voilà…

…a banker.

Suave, efficient…and blending with the scores of businessmen now traveling on a regular basis throughout Europe. Although the vampires, asleep during the daylight hours, employed spies along most major air-routes… the concept of "wolf in suit" just didn't sit well with their outmoded definition of "lycan." Dressed as he was, he'd more than likely just slip past about twenty-THOUSAND mortals trained to watch for "large aggressive caricatures dressed in hoodies, gruffness and sleaze. Anyone smelling strangely or licking their chops by accident. a.k.a. Watch for fur."

Pocketing his spare cellphone, he grabbed the carry-on bag from his armoire and left, knowing his limousine waited about two miles down the road. It was 4:45 am. The sun close to rising in two hours. He'd be picked up by the bridge.

A/N: Chapter four and five were originally one piece, but I figured we'd separate it between Germany and Norway. As such, we now have a chapter almost solely devoted to observing Lucian's wake-up schedule when he's about to travel. I also couldn't resist putting him in a suit. With wire-rimmed aviators. No tie. Cuff links. Undershirt. Come on, people...that's just ooozing style.

(Speaking of style, I'd also like to point out that scene towards the end of the movie "Underworld" where Kraven drops by uninvited to Lucian's den. Recall...this is the part where they're standing in the main lycan common room and Viktor's on his way into the sewers. Notice the lonnng line of fur-lined coats available on that rack behind Kraven. That's right. Lucian had almost fifty coats hanging there. I realize I'm exaggerating the number and most were probably for the lycan pack, but...come on, the gloves? A limousine? The guy's entirely high-maintenence. Except for the werewolf bit...)

Anyway, the main point is...please do read and review at some point. Even if it's to say "Lucian in a suit? I don't get it." And if you really don't get it, that's alright too...because next chapter he's changing into a black grungy longsleeve with a hoodie.

It'll be very exciting. Stay tuned...

Reference notations:

Auf Wiederhören: This is the basic way to say bye on the phone when speaking German. Literally translates to "hear you again." Essentially means "until I hear from you again."