Author's Soundtrack:

King by Romanovs
Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson (line break)

Chapter Seven

On the corner of Kensington Rd. and Rutland Gate stood a large, white, stuccoed house with five floors of tall windows, private balconies, and an impressive double door entrance protected by a long rod-iron fence. It was sizable, and box-shaped, and nothing like what Rukia imagined the Lady would live in if she truly existed. She was ancient, had experienced thousands of years of art and architecture. Shouldn't she be living in something old, and grand, and not in the middle of the city?

There wasn't anything particularly awful about it. By modern standards it was simplistic in design and classic in its own right. Flanked by expensive apartment and townhomes, it looked like just another house. A sprawling estate in the middle of the country, surrounded by old woods and beautiful landscapes - wasn't that where someone of the Lady's reputation belonged? She couldn't tell if she was disappointed or impressed by the practicality and unpredictability of it.

"This is where she lives?"

Rukia glanced at Ichigo as he looked up at the house, rather unimpressed. It seemed he felt the same way she did. Ashido stood on her other side, stared at the building. He was studying it, looking for different points of entry and possible escape routes. Everywhere he went, every building he stepped into, he searched for the same things. Having trained with him, she had done the same. She already had several exits for each floor.

"Hideki confirmed the address is correct. He's been watching the house for a few hours. Activity is minimal, and the information has the building in someone else's name, but it matches the intel I received."

"That doesn't exactly breed confidence," Ichigo remarked with a snide smile. Ashido shot him a look. Rukia sighed, seeing a lot of childish fights in her future. They snipped at and prodded one another like siblings, trying to rile the other until mother stepped in and smacked some sense into both of them. Ichigo and Renji had a similar relationship when they'd met. She was doomed to be surrounded by petty battles.

"My team will stay put, keep an eye on the outside and offer assistance if we run into trouble."

Scanning the streets that ran along the manor's two sides, Rukia caught sight of a few of Ashido's agents. Were it night, they might have been hiding discreetly in various places, but in the middle of the day they chose to disguise themselves as casual pedestrians and tourists. If not for the mix of other people, they would have stuck out like sore thumbs. No amount of skill was going to hide several Japanese foreigners surrounding a building.

"Are you expecting trouble?"

"I always expect trouble." Ashido smirked at Ichigo. Rukia rolled her eyes.

Preferring to avoid another series of jabs, Rukia crossed the street to the gated entrance. They fell into step beside her. They were quiet, but she could feel their silent barbs. Was she going to have to deal with this the whole time?

When they reached the gate, Ashido pressed a button on the intercom.

A male voice crackled through the speaker. "How may I help you?"

"I apologize for the intrusion, but we request an audience with the Lady."

Without missing a beat, the man on the other end responded politely. "I apologize, sir, but I believe you have the wrong address. Crown Prince Sultan Bin Abdulaziz owns and lives at this property, and he is currently out of the country."

True enough. Hideki had confirmed the name on the paperwork was the Saudi Prince Sultan Bin Abdulaziz. It had been owned by a Lebanese Prime Minister before that, until he had been murdered several years prior. From her own research, neither man visited the property frequently. It wasn't uncommon for people of wealth to own multiple properties, and visit only when it was convenient for them or the mood struck. But the limited amount of time the owners had spent at this manor was beyond questionable. At most, they had stayed a total of five days a year, even when they had business in the city. Why purchase a lavish hotel suite when a luxurious manor was already available?

With a little bit more digging, it was easy to find all the signs that the owners were only that by name, and the manor belonged to someone else entirely. The question that was nagging her was why they were playing up the cover with Ashido.

"Isn't she expecting you?" Her irritation flickered to life when Ashido gave her a sideways look she knew all too well.

"Not quite," he admitted. "My source hasn't been able to get in touch with her for some time. He's grown concerned, and thought a face-to-face visit would kill two birds with one stone: confirm she's alive and deliver the message."

His gaze fell back to the intercom and his features hardened into something more stubborn. "I won't let some doorman get in my way."

"He could be telling you the truth," Ichigo offered, but it was clear he didn't even believe it himself.

"The prince is a cover." Rukia was pleased Ashido's tone with Ichigo was more informative and less mocking. "She's been known to buy properties through friends. Originally, this house was 'owned' by a Lebanese Prime Minister, but when he was assassinated she was left in a bit of a conundrum. She could move or find another buyer. She convinced the prince to 'buy' the property."

"The paperwork must have been a nightmare," Rukia remarked, imagining all the contracts that needed to be signed with a normal purchase.

"Unless you know who's palm to grease." Ashido pressed the button again.

"Sir, I already told you-"

"Enough with the song and dance. I have a message from Chancellor Yamamoto Genryuusai."

Rukia wasn't sure if she was supposed to be surprised by the revelation that Ashido's source was the Japanese Chancellor, but she wasn't. Not many had the authority or sway with Ashido to get him to shirk his normal duties. The Chancellor was the only one who made sense. It did make her wonder. If he knew the Lady, what other secrets the old vampire was hiding? Given his age, he was bound to have quite a few.

The intercom was quiet for a moment, and then the gates opened smoothly.

They headed towards the front door, where an older man in a tuxedo was waiting for them, and motioned for them to enter into the foray. The long hall was simple except for the intricate crown molding and vintage medallions attached to the ceiling, spanning the length of the hall.

It was elegant in a simple fashion, much like the exterior of the manor. She had hoped the interior boasted more intriguing and impressive fixtures. Where were the old and rare pieces of art that could only be gathered and cared for by someone who lived when they were created? Then again, perhaps the Lady wasn't so attached to history. She had lived it after all. But even for Rukia, in her 150 years of life, she had come to appreciate and value what the world crafted during that time. Back in Japan she still owned a series of paintings from the 1890s her father had gotten her during his travels.

The first indication that the Lady had some interest in the arts and the past was the sitting room. The butler opened the double doors to the medium sized room. The walls were white, but the furniture and woodwork were intricate enough to make up for the lack of color. The windows were framed by thick window casings with sophisticated designs carved into the top and corners. The furniture reminded her of 19th century France with ornate wood frames that stretched across the backs and down the sides to create the legs. The fabric was a delicate baroque pattern with a hint of yellow that reflected the light color onto the walls in the afternoon sun. Display cases were filled with vases, dishes, and other items of historic beauty from around the world.

"Please wait here while I speak with the madam. I shall be back momentarily."

Rukia hardly noticed the man bow and leave, her eyes following the elegant curves of the coffee table. Ashido studied one of the glass displays and the Hannya mask inside it. Ichigo stood frozen in a corner, trying to stay as far away from everything as physically possible.

"Who has this kind of furniture for their living room? You can't sit on any of it."

"I'm sure it's fine. Considering her age, I doubt she's grown any real attachment to material things." Ashido threw himself onto one of the chairs. Ichigo eyed him suspiciously and chose to remain standing.

"That's a bold assumption considering you've never met the woman," Rukia reminded him. He shrugged.

"The Lady will see you now."

The three of them stared at the butler. He'd snuck up on them, easing in and out the room without a sound. It was clear he was a vampire from the way he carried himself and his scent, but his stealth was another skill entirely. Subtly, it showed the Lady did not employee useless people, even if they were just answering the door and showing people around. They were talented and loyal.

The thought of the Lady's rumored tactics for breeding allegiance and weeding out the weak ghosted across her mind.

"I'll see you in a few minutes. It shouldn't take too long." Ashido stood and joined the butler at the doorway, but he didn't move.

"She will see all of you," he clarified.

"They're here as my escort and members of the British Council. Chancellor Genryuusai-"

"Has no authority within this household." The butler leveled a demeaning stare at Ashido. It was quite impressive, given he was a solid two feet shorter than Ashido. "The Lady will see all three or none of you."

Offering Ashido an innocent shrug, Rukia stepped into the hall with Ichigo beside her. She wasn't going to miss an opportunity to see the legend in real life, and hearing what message Genryuusai had for her was a bonus. Ashido continued to glare at the butler's back as he guided them down the hall.

The number of doors lining the hall was rather impressive. What was behind each one of them? Were the rooms just as elegant, were they more simple and up to date, or were they used for storage? It was unlikely the Lady held many parties or entertained guests, so there would be no need to keep them occupied with furniture.

Rukia's hand itched to grab the handle of a door and peek inside. As if sensing her anxiety, the butler glanced back at her. She clenched her fingers closed to keep her hand from acting on its own and embarrassing herself by being rude.

The room they were led to was much larger than the sitting room. It was long and dark, the curtains drawn over the tall, floor to ceiling windows. The crown molding was more ornate than what was in the hall, being several inches taller with more dips and curves. Golden medallions gave the ceiling a touch of character, and crystal chandeliers dropping down from each one like sparkling teardrops. Rows of sofas lined the nearest wall, leaving the large open space empty, echoing of days when it was filled with people and light. A shaft of bright sunlight pierced through the darkness, the only window unveiled, illuminating a chaise where a woman reclined. Her gaze focused on something outside the window.

"Madam, your guests."

The butler bowed deeply but didn't move past the doorway. When she didn't look towards them, he motioned for them to enter. As they stepped onto the deep wood floors, he closed the doors. None of them moved.

"Is it childish fears perpetuated by the parents or propriety which keeps you from approaching?" Her voice was smooth as silk, deep and accented with a strange mix of British and something almost Middle Eastern. In it, the sneer was very evident.

Ashido was the first to step forward, stopping only once he was at her side. Rukia and Ichigo were close behind him.

The woman relaxing on the chaise was considerably younger than Rukia would have expected. Genryuusai was the oldest vampire she knew, and at nearly 1,000 years old, he appeared to be in his late 80s. But the woman, the Lady, was supposed to be over 2 millennia old, and yet she looked a very healthy 50. Silky black waves were pulled into a graceful pile on top of her head, with a thick streak of white coursing through it like a bolt of lightning. Skin of natural bronze and eyes the turned up at the corners hinted at her ancient origins. And it was her eyes that were the most intriguing thing about her physically. It was difficult to tell what color they had been before, but now they were almost completely white, as if a thick film had settled on the surface. Rukia thought her blind, but the barely visible circles where her pupils might have been jumped to each of them as if she could see clear as day.

"Are you going to continue to stare at me all day or are you going to give me my son's message?"

The three of them started.

"Genryuusai is your son?" She almost regretted asking as those glistening pearls turned towards her.

"I suppose it depends on your definition of the term. Did I bear him for nine months after sharing a lust fueled week in the bed of a man who had far too much power and not enough intelligence?" Her lips curled in mockery. "No. Our relationship is one more common to our kind. I found him, wandering the streets of a ruined village. Family and friends alike all slaughtered, many of their remains burned along with their houses.

"He wanted revenge, I wanted a companion. I figured he could keep me entertained for a couple of centuries." Her eyes wandered back to the window, smirking as she drifted off into her memories. "I was his benefactor. I changed him, taught him, raised him, provided for him. It was the least I could do. He was quite entertaining indeed."

And then the smile faded and she scowled. "Apparently I spoiled him, considering he only reaches out to me - by proxy mind you - only when he needs something. And he's always whining and complaining. You'd think a man of his standing would have grown a pair in the last five hundred years."

Genryuusai had been rebuked, like a child. The most powerful vampire Rukia knew, the one who managed to build the Councils from blood and war, who earned the respect of nearly every vampire in the world, and this woman treated him like a sniveling bratty child. Ichigo was grinning, clearly enjoying the rapid dismantling of Genryuusai's character. She elbowed him in the ribs.

"I apologize, madam," Ashido said, clearing his throat. Rukia wasn't sure if it was to disguise his own amusement or choke down the insult for his Chancellor.

Those white eyes snapped to him. "Whatever for?" She demanded impatiently. "Don't apologize for your superior's mistakes and short-comings. That's his problem, not yours. Now, what is it he wants this time?"

"He. . ." Ashido hesitated. The pointed glare the Lady shot at him indicated she was ready to lay into him if he didn't hurry up. She was surprisingly impatient for someone who had lived so long. "He was hoping you could share the location of the First."

Rukia wasn't prepared for the loud bark of laughter breaking down into something similar to hysterics. With the Lady's severe appearance and bristling personality, she didn't think her capable of expressing amusement beyond a sneer. It was almost enough to distract her from the subject of the question.

The Japanese Council - no, Genryuusai - was searching for the First vampire, their creator.

"I do-" The Lady tried to catch her breath, "I do apologize." She wiped at her eyes although no tears fell. "Child, I thank you. I haven't laughed like that in nearly 600 years."

But Ashido wasn't laughing. His cheeks were tinged with pink, the only indication of his mortification, but otherwise, he looked deadly serious. "It isn't a joke."

Her laughter subsided into an amused smirk. "It most certainly is. Why does my idiotic son believe I know the location of the First? The man is a legend, a whisper to help satiate the curious minds of our people who wonder what all sentient beings wonder: where do we come from? To believe anything else would simply be absurd."

But Rukia knew better. Her family knew better.

"You're a legend, a whisper to scare children."

The Lady's dulled eyes turned to Ichigo, her lips pressing into a thin line. Warning bells went off, and Rukia shifted protectively in front of him. But rather than lash out, the Lady tilted her head, as if trying to get a different perspective.

The corners of her lips curved upwards ever so slightly. "A valid point, child. I suppose you have me there."

Turning her attention back to Ashido, the smile faded once more. "Assuming, for some reason, I believe the First truly exists and am privy to his more recent alias and whereabouts, why would I tell you where to find him? And don't bother with frivolous excuses about secrecy. I have no patience for political games at this point in my life. You will tell me directly or you will leave promptly."

"Very well," Ashido said. His eyes shifted to Rukia for a moment and then back to the Lady. "There is a man who managed to find and consume the blood of the First."

"Oh?" She asked with a lilt to her voice. "How exactly did this man manage that?"

She played a good game, despite having no patience for it. It was faint, but Rukia could see the hints of interest, especially when those dead eyes flickered toward her. This woman knew the First. Not only that, she knew what his blood did to those who drank it. The question was, did Ashido and the Japanese Council? Had they discovered the truth Shinji had tried to keep hidden away?

"Originally, he was a well-respected member of the Japanese Council, holding a first seat of the Fifth House." The Lady scowled, uninterested in titles she knew nothing about. Ashido continued. "His motives were unknown to everyone except for the previous Chancellor of the British Council and his immediate subordinate. He worked to destabilize the Japanese Council by destroying our food supply, which helped distract from his true intention: to search for and locate an artifact passed down through the Fumiko family line. He found it and drank from it."

A bubble of laughter threatened to burst from Rukia's throat. Could what have happened to her be summarized so easily? What Aizen did to her - to Ichigo - was nothing more than a few words in a sentence. The pain they suffered not even worth mentioning. It hurt her heart the way Ashido explained the situation with such distance. Then again, she did little to nurture their relationship after she left, and if he didn't learn to cut emotional ties he could never do his job.

The Lady scoffed dismissively. "Sounds like he made a fool out of the lot of you, especially my son."

"Sousuke Aizen is a patient and calculating man," Rukia cut in. The hurt still stung, but she twisted it into something close to the anger she was more comfortable with. It helped that she felt personally insulted by her. "His motives are not so easily discerned. He is exceptional at planning, hiding, manipulating, revealing himself and his intentions only when it is too late."

The air grew thick as the Lady evaluated her, but Rukia would not back down. No one could have predicted Aizen's betrayal. No one could have known what he was searching for. No one would have believed it. To presume he could have been stopped was a comfort afforded to those who listened to the story and had the benefit of hindsight.

"You sing his praises," the Lady mused after a few minutes. The words were like a slap to the face and Rukia curled her nose at the accusation.

"I do nothing of the sort," she practically spat, "but I will not pretend he is an idiot whose actions can be predicted with observation when he is not."

Those white eyes studied her and seemed to approve of what they saw. "Good. Ignorance and pride only serve to get people killed."

She looked out the window again. Outside was Hyde Park. The lush green landscape was a pleasant reprieve from the concrete streets and buildings.

"With what purpose are you requesting to meet the First? What is it you hope to accomplish?"

"Aizen believes himself immortal," Ashido continued. His gray eyes slid over to Rukia for a moment, as if there were questions he had for her, and then returned to their host. "A true immortal. We would like to meet with the First and have him tell us if what Aizen believes is accurate and, if so, how we can stop him."

"Pointless," she said with a wave of her hand.

Ashido frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "And why is that?"

"You presume the First would have any interest in telling you how to defeat a true immortal. By giving you that information, what would prevent you from turning against him?"

"Why would we try to kill the First?"

She shrugged. "Who knows. We vampires are fickle things, a remnant of our humanity I suppose. You may find yourself loyal to the creator, but who is to say the same for someone like Aizen or another? And you cannot claim to know the intentions of those who have not yet been born."

Turning to face them, she tilted her head back and set her jaw. Her following words heavy with an ominous tone of a wizened oracle.

"It is safer to assume there is no way to kill a true immortal. Capture him, imprison him. That should keep him out of trouble. Let him spend all his days suffering for his traitorous decisions. Death will not hound his footsteps. He will not grow old. War will not kill him. Hunger will not slow him. He will live on and die only when the planet itself is consumed by the sun."

A chill ran through Rukia like a lance. The words were not only meant for Ashido to heed as a warning, but for herself as well. For the first time in a long time, she felt despair. Aizen could not be killed, and neither could she, but those around her could. She could lose everyone in her life and spend her days alone and unknown. One day, she might become a legend herself, and she feared it.

Ichigo set a warm hand on her shoulder, chasing away the worst of the dread, but it still stalked along the edges of her mind.

"Lock him up? That's your solution?" Ashido was unfazed and unimpressed.

The deep breath the Lady took was one asking for patience from above. "What you choose to do with that man is entirely your choice. I care very little about your intentions. But if imprisonment is your solution, be sure to impress the importance of keeping him restrained to your great grandchildren lest they grow complacent or even curious." Her lips spread in a malicious grin, revealing long, glistening, pointed fangs.

"I'll keep your warning in mind," Ashido remarked blandly. "However, I would still like to speak with the First about this."

She tapped a long finger on her chin, still smiling. "Very well. I cannot promise he will see you, but your chances are higher if you bring her with you." She pointed towards Rukia. "Wilford will give you the most recent name he's using. Now leave. I'm exhausted."

Wilford, the butler, was now standing at the door of the room. He stiffly motioned for them to exit. When they were out in the hall, he bowed to his madam and closed the door, then led them towards the entrance.

"The name of the man you are searching for is Coyote Starrk," Wilford offered, handing Ashido a manila folder. Rukia itched to take the file from him and open it herself. Inside it contained information, potential proof of the First, their creator, and her only living blood relative. Even with his blood flowing through her veins, he was still just a name, an unknown, unseen person.

"I took the liberty of gathering some additional information you may find beneficial. I suggest you begin your search in New York City. He favors that part of the world this time of the year, though I'll never understand why."

Before they could ask any other questions, he opened the door and ushered them back into the crisp midday air to begin a new hunt.

The tip of her heel caught on a crack in the sidewalk, causing her to trip and stumble in the dark alleyway. Hands spread out, she caught herself on the slick, rough brick of the building. It stung, the rough surface scraping the palms of her hands, but she only laughed at her own clumsiness. Righting herself, her unsteady legs wobbled and she felt like she was riding on a boat. Excited about the prospect, she rose her hands in the air and exclaimed "Whee!" in a series of giggles and tumbled to the ground. The force of hitting the pavement jarred her into temporary sobriety. Finding herself on her hands and knees, both burning like they were on fire, she took a shaky breath.

The flickering red neon sign from a closed pawn shop gave her enough light to evaluate the damage to her hands. She winced, seeing tiny pieces of broken glass buried in the heels of her palms and knew her knees were in similar condition. Her stomach lurched, either from the sight of blood or in protest of her over-indulgent drinking, and she heaved its contents onto the blacktop.

The ride wasn't fun anymore. Wiping her mouth with her arm, she took a few deep breaths and tried to get to her feet. She made the mistake - one of many tonight - of bracing herself with her injured hands. A flash of pain shot through her arms and she quickly stepped away, glaring at the wall as if it had been the one to attack her.

Something shifted behind her, sending a chill shooting through her body, freezing her in place. Hesitantly, she looked into the darkened space, studying it intently for any other signs of movement. A menagerie of potentially terrifying creatures that could be lurking in those shadows hounded her drunken senses. Big Foot? Chupacabra? That creepy nerd in 5A? Another shiver ran down her spine and she regretted not packing her mace.

A pair of feet, just at the lip of the shadow, slid out of sight. They were tattered and torn with age and wear, just like the hairy wrinkled legs that wore them. The heavy smell of urine, booze, and something else she didn't want to think about assaulted her senses. It was some homeless man. Or woman. Maybe both? None? Fuck, she didn't know. They were probably just trying to sleep for the night. Her head pounded against her skull, demanding proper hydration and sleep. The ache on her hands and knees pulsed and throbbed. Maybe she should go to a hospital. Was that six blocks to the right or left?

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and she screamed, wheeling around and wildly swinging her purse like a club. The motion pulled her to the left and she pitched forward into the waiting arms of a stranger. Strong hands braced her on either side and a strange mix of smells washed over her, like a mojito and a shot of 100 proof vodka. She snorted. That sounded terrible.

"Are you alright, miss?"

His voice was surprisingly smooth and comforting, clashing violently with the tight, possessive grip he had on her shoulders. Alarms sounded violently in her mind, hammering loudly and screaming for her to run. She almost listened, trying to step back with some excuse on her tongue, and then she looked up and was captivated.

Beautiful eyes captured her breath. Their strange color of electric blue margarita - no, that wasn't right, there wasn't enough depth - of the Caribbean waters off the coast of St. Thomas - that was better - was staggering. Dark black hair that danced in the wind tunnel of the alley only made the color seem more vivid and shocking. His lips pulled into a gentle smile and her fear eased.

"I didn't mean to startle you. When I saw you turn down this alley I got a little concerned. These kinds of places can be dangerous, especially for a woman walking alone."

Gorgeous, great voice, and a gentleman? How many nights had she tried to find Mr. Right in the clubs and on blind dates only to find him by tripping down an alley?

"Is a'right. Thisis the fastest way t'my place." Her words came out slow and slurred, making her sound like an idiot. She finally lands a hot guy and he probably thinks she's a simpleton. A playful smile slipped onto her lips. She could show him that she wasn't, she just had to get him into her bed.

"Probably still not the best idea to walk home alone. You should call a cab."

She frowned when he didn't offer to walk her back. Wasn't that the gentlemanly thing to do? Chivalry was clearly dead.

"I'm not 'lone now." Giving him a meaningful stare. The curve of his lips widened slightly and she felt a thrill of excitement - and something else she chose to ignore.

"I suppose you aren't."

Author's Notes: Guess who! No, really, guess! Although I suppose it really isn't that hard. I hope you all enjoyed the Lady. I had fun writing her. There's always something enjoyable about characters who are snarky, especially someone who can set down the all powerful Genryuusai.

A few of you have been wondering as to when we're going to see more of the characters from the Bleach universe. I know I have a bunch of original characters at the moment. That probably won't go away entirely, but each person has a role to play. If it makes you feel better, you will see more familiar faces in the next chapter.

Just as a note, if you've made it this far and haven't read For Blood I recommend you go read it. It's the first part to this story and contains, well, everything that explains what's going on in this story lol.

Thanks to all those who favorited and followed this story. It really means a lot to me that you all enjoy this story enough to add it to your favorites list and can't wait to read the next chapter. Thanks to Haru, lightdesired, girlcardisme, and IchiRuki for your reviews, questions, and comments on male measuring contests lol. Thanks again for reading and please R&R! I love hearing what you guys think and how you feel about each chapter!