The group was now clustered in the library, after Abe had informed them that he was going to introduce their new visitor to everyone, and decided that the library would be the best place. It offered plenty of concealed weapons and only one obvious way out. True, various secret passageways were accessible from many different areas of the large chamber, but were only known to BPRD members.
Hellboy fidgeted with the unnecessarily large gun strapped to his hip and was muttering under his breath. Liz caught phrases such as "don't think this is a good idea" and "I'm out of damn cigars." Manning had a Wikipedia file open on the screen of his tablet and was anxiously scanning the article on Valkyries, presumably to see if they were offended by anything and resolving himself against saying anything rash.
Nuala was standing silently beside Abraham's tank and kept shooting fretful glances at Nuada, who was standing on the opposite side of the room apart from the others.
He had acquired his spear on the journey to the library, and was twirling it slowly in his right hand. On each upward arc it would let out a haunting, rattling whistle as it sliced through the air. Manning kept glancing up from his reading each time the sound was made to look reproachfully at the prince.
Nuada had two overall thoughts about what could happen when the Valkyrie was led into the room. Part of him was compelled to slice its head off the moment it stepped through the doors, despite what everyone thought of him afterward. He imagined it – rushing up to where the creature stood and with one fell swing of his spear, its head would come off as easily as slicing a hot knife through butter. He then pictured himself with amusement looking back at the petrified group and shrugging, his face flecked with newly spilt blood. His experiences with creatures of trickery was enough to persuade him to destroy each and every one that crossed his path as soon as possible, no matter how deceptively innocent they may appear.
On the other hand – he scoffed under his breath at the mere thought of it – it would not do to immediately slaughter something the minute it walked through the door. It could be potentially valuable; information could be obtained from it; things could be learned. As well, Nuala seemed to deem it harmless, and although Nuada still felt powerful resentment towards her, it still pained him to cause her distress. His own curiosity was whetted too – he had never seen a Valkyrie apart from vague sketches on ancient scrolls and the static images from the security screens, and felt enough interest in finding out the angles and history of its species.
"Almost at the door," Abe's voice came from Hellboy's pager. Everyone apart from Nuada shifted uneasily; even Nuala cleared her throat nervously.
The doors swung open, and Abe appeared first. He looked behind him and gestured formally for the Valkyrie to enter. She did so boldly and without fear. As she entered, no one spoke; they felt as if royalty had just entered the room. They all stared at her lithe figure, dressed in plain black pants and the tank top that she had been captured in. Long dark hair cascaded down her back, unnaturally straight like the twins.' She regarded them all with bright, unblinking eyes.
xXxXxXxXx
The fish man who called himself Abraham led me into the library through a pair of heavy doors. The unfamiliar texture of the floor on my bare feet was fascinating; it was as if I were walking on an enormous bed of intricately colored moss. I would have to enquire as to what the material actually was.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the room was the beauty of it. Shelves upon shelves of tomes circled the area, and I eagerly wanted to see what kind of books these strange people kept. Being a Valkyrie, books of any subject held immense fascination, mainly because our unique purpose in life did not require such things as libraries. A large tank was set in the wall to the right and was filled with water – I guessed that was where Abraham lived, and I made a note to remind myself to take a swim in it. At the far end of the room a spiral staircase wound up to the next level of the library.
I was pleased at the sight. The figures standing in the middle of the room were just as interesting, though. A huge red demon caught my eyes first, for the mere bulk of him, along with filed horns and a flicking tail, commanded my attention. I tilted my head as I looked at him. He was giving me an uneasy look, and had his hand on a metal device at his hip. I wondered if it was some form of killing tool. I made another mental note to apprehend the object at some point and examine it.
A woman with short black hair stood beside the red demon, looking at me fiercely. She was with child, two, actually. I smiled at her. Children were always something to be treasured. She merely looked at me with a haughty expression. I shifted my gaze. A rotund balding man was standing beside her, frozen in his spot. Of all the individuals I had sensed in the room, he was perfectly human. I think I'll kill him, I thought mildly. He was of little interest to me, and I turned my gaze to the figure standing beside the large tank.
She was beautiful, and my vanity flared angrily as I studied her. She was an elf, that much was plainly apparent to me. Her white skin, willowy figure and orange eyes proved it enough. I rejoiced in the fact that her hair was white, so unlike mine, and that it fell shorter around her being than mine did. I also felt a smugness in learning that she felt very uneasy at the moment; her eyes were hesitant as she met my gaze, and I grinned openly at her, showing my fangs in a passive-aggressive display of intimidation. I had just turned my eyes to the figure at the other end of the room, the one that was standing slightly apart from the others, when I noticed strange markings that trailed across the beautiful woman's face. I snapped my eyes back to where she was standing and, upon complete understanding, opened my wings and swiftly descended the few stairs leading into the room until I was face to face with her.
She jumped at my speed but did nothing further. The rest of the group started noticeably and I sensed that the demon had withdrawn his metal killing appliance and was now aiming it at me. The balding man had jumped so violently that he tripped over his feet and was sprawled on the floor. I also sensed something else, a whistling noise made by another weapon, more familiar to me. While still looking at the she-elf's face, I sensed a royal spear was inches from the nape of my neck. I ignored it.
"You have the royal scars," I said, tracing their fine lines with wide eyes. I was close enough to her face to make anyone uneasy, but she regained her composure with almost surprising rapidity and met my fascinated gaze.
"Indeed," she replied. "I am Princess Nuala, daughter of King Balor of the Bethmoora clan."
My vanity hissed at the softness of her voice, its pitch and tone. My voice was lower in tenor and just as soft, although hers held a quality of mystical air which was devoid in my own. I longed to kill her merely to have her out of my sight, but I enjoyed her presence nonetheless and decided against it.
"A lengthy title for one so young," I uttered instead, still staring at her scars with prying eyes. The elf who called herself Nuala looked puzzled for a moment. I inclined my head at her confusion and was about to speak again when the large red creature made his killing device click loudly.
"I think you should maybe think about backing up a few steps, eh birdy?" he said. I slowly turned to face him. The large device was pointed directly at my face and contained six large hollow cylinders.
"Like Big Baby?" he grinned.
"I am not accustomed to your weapons of slaughter," I retorted smoothly. "But I assure you it will invoke no fear from me. I am not sunk so low as to feel threatened by mere intimidation, and if that is all you can intimidate me with, demon, then I suggest you think of something better."
"Real wordy, isn't she?" the demon muttered to the dark-haired woman at his side. She didn't reply, but continued looking fiercely at me. She was not as pretty as either myself or the she-elf, and I dismissed her without much thought.
I turned my attention now to the spear at my neck. Turning around to face its wielder, I was mildly surprised to see that it was another elf who bore the same scars as the female. This one was male, however, and possessed much darker features than the other. His cheekbones were high and strong, and formed attractive hollows in his face which made him look almost predatory. Amber eyes that positively glowed with hostility shone from a darkened, furrowed brow, eyes that stared as intensely as mine. I raked my eyes over his features, absorbing and filing away each strange oddity, such as the perfect symmetry of his scars to the dark hue of his thin lips.
While observing that he was obviously in a rather aggressive mood, I could not fix my mind to his underlining composure. There was a reflective forlornness there, a kind of primal manifestation that only showed itself through slight movements of his eyes and the even space between each breath. Overall there was an iron self-control that dominated his entire being, from the hair-thin lines around his mouth and eyes to the steadfast grip he had on his spear. I tilted my head at him.
"You are very sad," I commented lightly. His brows rose in surprise and his eyes lost a degree of their darkness, but the slip of composure was smothered almost instantly in his reply.
"You dare to assume me," he growled. "You, Valkyrie, know nothing of my thoughts or sentiments, and to presume them is a vast miscalculation. I had best slice your insolent head from where it sits."
"I honestly didn't know he could say so many words," the red demon said mildly. The woman at his side broke her stony attitude and surrendered to a suppressed chuckle. I ignored them. I could sense that the she-elf behind me was highly anxious and wanted dearly to say something, but my attention was focused acutely on the other. His reply did nothing to frighten me or cause any uneasiness. I was captivated at the harshness of his personality, but I was itching to get my hands on some of the books that lined the room.
I gazed at him with unwavering eyes for a moment – he returned the look – before sidestepping his spear and walking past him to get to the shelves beyond. I sensed a profound incredulousness from him as I delicately ran my fingers along the spines of a few tomes, but didn't care enough to address it. He could think what he liked, and at the moment, Adventures in Russian Cooking was delightfully appealing.