Hellfire

Interval Twenty-Four

Lucius stood gazing at the gothic wall of his family paintings – body as still as ice and his bats surrounding his shoulders like a cloak, listening to every inch of his home. Some were missing; those specifically of Alistair and Breda. Arnold had managed to move what he could from the house, ensuring Morrigan didn't see anything that may jog her memory and give her strength to surface from her half-sleep. She didn't need reminding Alistair existed and she most certainly didn't need reminding that Gabriel was dead.

He tongued his lengthened teeth, finding them aching still. His whole body did. Sexual frustration was deep in him, his addiction lessened but still present. For weeks he'd only had memories of Susan, small tantalising thoughts that haunted him during that endless tedium of the Calling, and the moment he could actually touch her, absorb her heat, bite her, fill her, it had been snatched away. He wasn't nearly satisfied. Not nearly enough. The addiction stalked about the corner of his mind, not as close as before now, but enough for him to wary of it. He needed Susan again to keep it at bay.

But Morrigan was watching him. Even in here, the demons were above him, observing him with little tilts of their heads and relaying information to her, and she constantly touched his mind in random intervals as she patrolled his thoughts. It wasn't safe for him to be near Susan and her safety, even if it came at the cost of his addiction thriving or his body starving of her, was his utmost priority. He would not have Morrigan know who she was.

Arnold came in, his scent of Indian spices alerting Lucius to his arrival. He set down a tea, one heavy with blood in an effort to calm him. They both knew it wouldn't work, this last year had proven that, but it was all they could do for now.

'You have a guest waiting, Sir.' Arnold announced and peered at him.

Lucius turned to dismiss, until he saw the severity on Arnold's face.

'You have to meet this one. She's demanding it.' He said as he pulled out a tiny, ivory bat from his tweed-coat pocket.

Eva.

He breathed out with irritation. She didn't need to stick her nose into this, it would risk her and she wasn't worth risking, but the bat flung to him and he felt that mass of power beginning to press upon him. With a snap of his teeth, Lucius sat within his chair, folded his long legs, and closed his eyes.

Instantly, he found himself within a familiar dreamscape - a garden, full of red roses and small tea set placed carefully on a wrought-iron table with the golden summer daylight taking the sky. Sitting at it was Eva, her white hair spilling from beneath her summer hat and her corn-yellow dress complimenting her lithe shape. Having been raised human, Eva had a connected to the daylight like no other vampire – one she could only visit in her dreams.

Eva smiled and gestured to the chair opposite. 'I've heard news that your mother woke up.'

Lucius folded himself into the chair lazily. 'She's none of your concern, Eva. I'll deal with her.'

She was quiet, assessing him, and folded her hands on her lap. 'Tell me what's happening and I'll judge if it's my concern or not.' She pointed at him lightly. 'And don't tell me it's not. Not only does this concern me as a friend, but as the Eventide Queen. I won't have my people eaten.'

He gazed at her stubbornness. He forgot how she could dig her heels in when she wanted to.

'Morrigan is half-awake and is currently focus on Susan and eating the impure. She isn't aware of Gabriel's death and I'm intending to keep it that way.'

'What do you plan to do about it? Archons stay asleep – that's the rule.'

'Morrigan isn't one to abide by rules.' Lucius said icily. 'But I am planning to create a dream that she won't wake from. It's difficult however with Susan being her focus.'