Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

1 - Chapter I: The Deal

Twenty miles from Budapest 1899.

It was a full moon. No guards by the walkway. The monastery filled with silence. The catacombs empty. An involuntary house arrest which had expired long before vampires had grown weary of guarding their weakened charge. Over a dozen candles on the table. Piles and piles of books, scrolls and ink pens carefully laid aside so as to minimize any damage from wax or fire.

Lucian had taken a seat by the window, his right leg carelessly situated above his left knee. He had not changed much in the past four decades. Dressed as a gentleman, he wore a three-piece suit, the fashionably buttoned coat matching the grey waistcoat, the trousers and black tie pitched as a contrast. His hair was cut short, the dark locks still hinting at waves, the pointed beard and moustache styling him as a man of the times.

The only estrangement lay in his eyes, unblinking silver staring across the dusty table. His entire frame draped in the graceful light of the moon. His expression stating that this meeting would end badly if his time was ill-used. In many ways, Tanis owed his life to that. Curiosity stemming from the lycan-master's need to comprehend all that lay in his past. Though curt in his approach, he always had an avid interest in history.

"Speak."

An accent.

Hunkering as if his robes had become part of his skin, the vampire Tanis nodded, masking his curiosity at the lycan-master's intonation.

England then.

The werewolf had settled in England.

Perpetually on edge, he focused his thoughts. It had taken much to get Lucian back into his homeland. It would not do to waste his time. Come morning, the lycan would be on the first ship out of Budapest.

He scuttled backwards, his fingers creeping towards his beloved books, pulling one from the top of a pile. Placing it facedown upon the reading stand and paging his way carefully towards the centre.

Every page a priceless artefact in his hands, yet in spite of all his care, the vellum was cracking near the spine. Warm light causing the ink to flicker, the illustrations leaping as if the dead still wanted to live. As if stung, the vampire halted, backing away from the tome and pointing at the exposed illustration.

"Do you see this book?" Tanis asked, licking his lips and trying to disguise the gravity of the situation. His voice made it sound as if he had come across a treasure. Except there was a mirror across from him. His lie staring him in the face. Bones starting to show in his cheeks. His greenish-hazel eyes darting nervously. He looked as if he had not eaten in months. He looked as if he was hanging on by a thread.

He looked back at the chair.

Empty.

The lycan had crossed the room already.

Stepping up behind him, Lucian picked up one of the candlesticks and brought it closer to the book. Squinting at the wood engraving printed upon the vellum. The detailed workmanship of an ancient book. One which could have been printed through China. In the case of vampire work, engravings were always more expensive than painted illustration.

Ignoring Tanis' scowl, the lycan-master handled the pages with his fingers. Turning them to see what lay before and after, and then once again, allowing the pages to rest. Like the candle, his eyes flickered over the text, consuming the words and committing them to memory. Absorbing the sordid content without comment.

On the left-hand page, there was a wood-engraved image of a man tied to the ground. Hands and feet bound with chains. His hair black as night. An eye above his body and blood flowing from his chest. A wooden stake through his heart. On the right, a council of twelve robed vampires passing judgement. A set of scales in the hands of their leader. Their faces uncovered and compassionate. As if they were performing a boon rather than an execution.