Author's Note: *bashes head repeatedly against keyboard looking worse than a donkey on crack* SO SORRY FOR THE PROCRASTINATION *resumes murdering her keyboard and forehead*
Chapter 9: Their Mistress; Kicks Ass!
Third person POV:
Aberline hurried to the open window of the Yard's office when he heard the thundering approach of horses. He instantly concealed himself among the curtains when he spotted three horses approaching, instead of a horse-drawn carriage.
The leading mare was snow-white; the two flanking it were ebony-black stallions. They were the sturdiest horses he had ever seen, with gorgeous manes and muscular forelimbs and hind-quarters.
Perched atop the mare with braided-white mane was the rebel Duchess; her advisor/butler Michaelis, and her secretary/butler, Faustus, rode upon the stallions.
Aberline pulled the curtains together and swiftly turned to address his senior, who was still working at his desk.
"Sir, Lord Randall…" Aberline whispered. When Randall looked up at him, "The Duchess approaches…"
"What? Where?" Randall immediately stood up. "She wasn't due till two hours later!"
A soft chuckle broke the silence.
"Lord Randall~," a female voice came through the window. A soft clack of heels landing atop the floor made both human men gasp. "Miss me?"
Azalea Bellatrix had smoothly slid off her horse and through the window left open by Aberline. She drew the curtains back to the way Aberline left them, and strode over confidently to the door, opening it to reveal her ever-accompanying butlers.
The human men stared at the woman with wide-eyed disbelief. Aberline was blushing. Her high-heeled black leather boots reached all the way to her knees. From there onwards, she wore skin-tight black riding pants, which rose to her waist, where it ended at a fat, black, silver-buckled belt. She wore a long-sleeved, loose-fitting polo shirt which was a striking scarlet, but her waist and bust was perfectly highlighted due to tight fit of the black outer corset, reaching up from her waistline and covering her bust. Her black hair was tied tightly to the back of her head in a long, deep brown ponytail.
She herself pulled out the chair in front of Randall's desk and comfortably settled herself on it, crossing one leg atop the other. Sebastian gently placed a cigar at her lips while Claude lit it up. She inhaled deeply and moved it away with two fingers. Tilting her head up seductively, she blew the smoke onto Aberline's face (he was standing right next to her chair).
"Want one, Randall, Aberline?" She offered, showing them the brand from the one she was smoking. "The best and most expensive England has to offer."
Randall landed his palms aggressively on the desk surface. The action seemed to intimidate her as much as a baby's clap would.
"Lady-" Randall started.
"Lord Draconia," Azalea drawled as she took another long whiff of her cigar.
Azalea's POV:
I looked at the two men before me. One looked absolutely enraged while the other looked awestruck and confused.
I raised my legs onto the desk and crossed them, tilting the chair back on two legs. Taking the cigar away from my lips, I said, "Just saying. You know, you look down on me as a weak creature when you refer to me as 'Lady'. So refer to me as you would to my father, and that's that. You wouldn't look down on him, now would you?"
Intimidating as Father was, I don't think even demons would look down on that man.
Randall thundered at the comment. "So what brings you here two hours earlier, Lord Draconia?"
"That's more like it…" I smirked. "Oh, please take a seat, Lord Randall."
The nerve of this woman! Though Randall. Offering me a seat in my own office! Damned woman! If only Her Majesty the Queen wasn't always supporting this snake sneaking through the underground…
Randall looked furious. I continued to observe him with glassy emerald eyes and slightly parted lips. The smoke softly emerged through them. "You see, my business here in London was taken care of earlier than expected, so here I am."
"And what, may I pry, was your business in London today?" Randall looked like a slight pinch would have him off his seat and rampaging.
"Oh, nothing much~" I twirled a pen from the desk between two long fingers. "Shopping, eating pastry, the usual things most noblewomen delight in…"
Third person POV:
Randall looked at Aberline. It was clear that both men shared the feeling that Azalea Bellatrix had been doing anything but shopping and eating pastry, since it was a known fact she did not delight in usual things, and was most certainly not one of the 'most' noblewomen.
"…I see…" Is there anything more you can say when dealing with a woman like her? He thought, observing her lithe index and middle fingers capture the cigar and pull it away from her lips as she blew the smoke overhead in thin wisps.
"So, Randall…" She flipped her hand backwards and glanced at her nails carelessly. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"
Randall watched as the lady held out a palm, and her butler Claude placed a thin nail file in her outstretched fingers. She started to size her nails, not even looking at him anymore.
He could feel his insides boil in rage. The nerve of this woman! He thought again.
"We just wanted to inform you that you have no business at the docks, should you try to interfere in the ongoing case of drug-dealing and various assorted crimes." Randall said, trying very hard to keep his calm, but sounding anything but polite. If he was dealing with any other noble higher in rank than himself, he would have to deal with some problem for sure, but seeing as this was the Rebel Noble, he got away with it. She wasn't the least bit bothered with how people spoke as long as they're not foul-mouthing her. She sometimes got people into trouble for rudeness, but then, she must be feeling extra-nasty to persecute them for something she didn't give a damn about.
"And why is that?" she calmly questioned, concentrating on her nails more than Randall.
"Because, that's our job," Randall hissed. Apparently the lack of regard for him in the duchess was finally getting the best of him.
"What do you plan to do about this case, then?" she questioned calmly, blinking at him innocently. "Strengthen guard at the warehouses by the dock and have officers dressed as civilians supervise from a distance?"
Randall opened his mouth, just to close it again. When he began to open it again, she said, "Personally investigate goods inside the warehouse and station guards to check what is being brought down from ships?"
Randall closed his mouth. Azalea grinned broadly.
"I'd like to see you open the hundreds of crates coming in just for the pharmaceutical department of my company." She stated, smirking.
"Too much pride kills its owner, Lord Draconia."
"Pride isn't a person, so I couldn't care less about the threat it poses," Azalea answered non-chalantly as she turned her attention back onto the nail file.
"We would still respect it if you stayed out of this."
"Hmm…let's see…" she mumbled. "Nah, don't feel like it."
"So you're not going to back out?" Randall said, through clenched teeth.
"Give me one good reason," she said casually, taking a long whiff from her cigar. The scene was getting very hard to digest for both Randall and Aberline.
"The Queen gave us clear orders-" Randall began, when Azalea snapped her fingers sharply. Sebastian pulled out a scroll from behind his back and stretched it out before him. The Royal Seal and Her Highness' signature at the end told it all.
Randall continued even though his strongest point was over-ruled. "We are the official law-enforcers in the city, and we are the ones given the responsibility to capture such wrong-doers-"
"Well," she said, lowering her legs from the desk, and leaning forwards to balance her elbows where her legs had been. She crossed her fingers and leaned her chin on them. "I'd say you're not very successful in 'capturing wrong-doers', then."
"Wh-what on earth do you mean by that?" Randall thundered. Aberline looked panicked.
Suddenly, Azalea's voice turned dark. And lowered at least two octaves, sending a chill down Aberline's spine.
"What, pray tell me, happened of capturing my parents' killers?" she asked, in a very deadly tone. Sebastian raised two fingers to his lips to hide his smirk, and Claude raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Or are they not wrong-doers in your view?"
Randall knew he was starting to get on her bad side now.
"…I'm not sitting here to set a proposition before you, La-Lord Draconia. All in all, I'm trying to make it known to you that you do not need to be a part of this." Aberline started to walk forward as Randall stood up. "It was our duty before yours, and, as your 'reason', I'll give you this: we have more capable people working on the case."
"More capable people, huh?"
"Most absolutely-"
She had purposefully stuck her leg out at exactly the right time. Aberline took a quick step, just to trip up on the misplaced appendage, and fell face forward on the floor before them. Sebastian had stepped aside at the precise moment so as to not hinder his fall.
"Well – I think I've made my point." she said, with an exaggerated shrug and teeth-showing grin. "Your argument is invalid."
Randall was fuming. "It was our duty before yours." What a desperate attempt to recover from the insult, thought Azalea, watching Aberline get up with the same grin plastered on her face.
"Get real, Randall," she said, standing up and picking up her packet of smokes. "Everyone knows that rats fall for poisoned cheese better than the good ol' mousetraps. Generational improvement."
As she turned away, her butlers at her heels and opened the door, she turned her head at him again.
"Oh, and just to let you know." She said, deadly voice back again. "I know you didn't believe my statement of doing conventional noblewomen stuff. But it's not like I care, so…"
With a final shrug, she exited. Her butlers closed the door behind her.
Silence.
"Umm, Lord Randall, sir…" Aberline started.
"Don't. You. Say. Another. Word." Randall said, glaring sideways at Aberline. If looks could kill, Aberline would have died many times over. "You idiot."
Third person POV:
"Hey Riven."
A young man of about twenty-five with a mess of silver hair braided behind his head, and hazel eyes said without turning around in his chair. He carried on toying with the dog on his lap.
"So what're we gonna do next, Raiden?" a man of the same age as the first questioned in a drawl. This one had burgundy hair and heterochromatic eyes: one purple and one deep brown iris. 'All o' us have gotta be back from assigned missions by now.."
"To tell you the truth," the one called Raiden set aside the dog and stood from his armchair. Both Raiden and the one he'd referred to as Riven were over six feet in height and had a similar build: slim with defined muscles. Both were dressed in similar black shirts, ivory ties and grey pants with black leather belt. "I have no clue…"
And they were both very handsome.
"But yes," Raiden continued. "Everyone is back from their assigned missions."
"Ha!" Riven let out a loud bark of a laugh. "Well, let's go indulge in some fun till that bastard Master of ours comes up with some better ploy. I gotta fight better people next time."
"Hmm…" Raiden pondered about getting 'better people to fight'. He smirked. "You've sensed him too?"
"Bitch please," Riven drawled. "I developed that detection skill more than most of our kind. That bastard spyin' on us was strong, yeah, but I know hell well to conceal ma'self from strong sons of bitches like him."
"Where's everyone else?" Raiden questioned, returning to picking up the dog and stroking it.
"Like I give a damn…" Riven snarled, biting on a single black nail to bring out a wood splinter. "I swear, if ya ever force me to play around with wood onboard, I'm gonna tie ya to the poop deck."
Raiden chuckled at the cocky comment.
"Hmm…" Raiden looked out of the window of the small cabin they were currently standing inside. "Do you know where Ren is, at least? I thought you two got along?"
"Uh…yeah…" Riven scratched the back of his head. "The guy came onboard wimme. Said he's gonna check on the whores." He laughed the bark-laugh again. "Probably getting' laid till now, 'cuz I sense his presence bein' in lotsa fun." He finished with a shit-eating grin.
"Of course…" Raiden said patiently. "And what of Reika? I thought you liked her?"
"Reika…" Riven said, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "Lemme see…well…she went off wimme, but then said she'll be back after getin' some food…bitch didn't tell me anymore." He finished with a frown.
"Hmm…" Raiden looked at Riven, to see if he was hiding anything. When he realized his subordinate was being honest, he dropped his gaze back to his dog. "Thank you, Riven. That will be all."
"'Kay…" Riven turned and walked away. But when he opened the cabin door, he turned around.
"Ya sure ya don't wanna go a couple o' rounds wimme? Imma open the bottle I brought in from London. Finest scotch whiskey." He asked Raiden, who remained as he had been.
"No, but thanks for your kind offer, Riven," he said flatly. "I'd like to be alone for a while."
"'Kay then…" Riven said, shrugging as he left.
First person POV:
"So now we know Yard never had much up their sleeves from the beginning."
I sat perched atop the food-preparation counter in the kitchen, my legs dangling off the corner as Sebastian refilled my goblet with scotch whiskey. He had helped himself to some wine upon my insisting, while Claude had politely declined, saying he does not drink alcohol.
"It almost seems as if they never planned to take this seriously enough." Sebastian pointed out. "Inspecting the dock wouldn't stop the murders, would they? It could if I was there, of course…" he cast a mocking, furtive glance at Claude who returned the look with loathing (that is, as much as he can through that emotionless façade). "…But I feel that getting to the bottom of these illegal activities is going to be slightly more difficult than Scotland Yard predicts."
"'Slightly more difficult', Sebastian?" I yelled. "They infiltrated into my frickin' company! It's not easy at all, and you now it! These bastards, whoever they are, are sneaky and geniuses to manage it. Along with the other crimes they are accomplishing in while coming by ships, moreover amongst innocent-looking crew, I'd say it's going to be a case unlike what we've seen for quite some time now."
"I was simply trying to stay calm about this, my Lady…" Sebastian bowed deeply, one hand over his 'heart'. "I'm sorry if I offended you."
"It's not that…" I said, staring into the depths of my drink. "It's just that I want you to take this very seriously. Someone is trying to stain the family name!" I yelled. "The family name my father worked so hard on building!"
"I apologize profusely if I have hurt any sentiments of yours, my Lady." Sebastian did not lift his head from the bow.
"…No…it's all right…" I said, as he got up from his deep bow. "It's just that…whoever these bastards are…we're gonna exterminate them completely, even if the Queen just wants us to stop them or turn them over to the law."
Claude, who had been quiet thus far, had definitely got into better spirits watching Sebastian get yelled at. So he spoke up now.
"Your Highness, surely you cannot leave this case to Yard's hands? After all, it's the Queen's orders that you get to the bottom of this case, and also, this is the question of your beloved business"
I bit down on my lower lip, drawing a bit of blood, as I lowered my head, hiding my face behind my bangs completely. "Absolutely correct, Claude."
Sebastian and Claude stared at me curiously as a smirk grew to a grin plastered on my face.
"Boys, I want you to study the ships' arrival patterns. And as for all three of us, let's prepare for an early Hallowe'en…"
A/N: Whatcha think whatchaa think? Plot development! And extra long chappie!