Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

4 - Chapter IV: The Awakening

The room felt like a furnace.

A massive oak table stood in the centre, fifteen feet long with seven benches stacked neatly to either side. Originally, there had been eight, but the missing wood crackled like matches, the waves of heat glistening from a colossal fireplace at the far end of the room. As if the fire were not enough, eight candle-stands had been placed sporadically about, the beeswax melting at an alarming rate, the flickering light casting shadows on several books, a 13th century cupboard, and a broom which had been abandoned in a hurry. Careful with their last few steps, Lucian avoided the broom and headed directly for the dining table, nodded at Raze and painstakingly lowered the basin to the floor. As he straightened, he noticed the absence of dust. The vampire may have scarpered, but to his credit, he had put himself to good use before leaving-probably for one of the storage rooms. No point in seeking him out if he did not have the stomach for their task.

"Carve the meat, then bury the second carcass," Lucian instructed beneath his breath, his gaze roving intently about the room, searching for the only occupant besides themselves. Only a second to find her, though she was by no means in the same spot in which he had left her. In the shadow of the cupboard, she rested, her body curled away from the fire, frozen in the same position she had been in the catacombs. Spindly arms, the shape of bones showing clearly through the skin. He had seen vampires at their worst before, but even those had been preserved to some extent, their bodies kept in storage and their blood protected.

A wonder she was not dead.

Beside him, Raze was growling softly, his silver eyes fixed on the blood-seer's face, his teeth edged to the point. Even the man's neck was taut as a lycan fighting the instinct to kill. It was an instinct that Lucian had fostered in every pack member, though Raze was by far one of the strongest claimants to his mantra. For a moment, Lucian closed his eyes, inhaling the razor-sharp scent that had jumped from constant obedience to unyielding vigilance...and then he spoke.

"Not today, old friend," he commanded, deep words rolling off his tongue, for once granting Raze that title which spoke of the many centuries between them. Like a quiet touch, the word breaking through the stiffness, dispelling the iron force in the dark lycan's stance. He could not fault Raze for his reaction. It could be difficult, reigning one's temper in the face of the unknown. As if seeing for the first time, the man blinked and then breathed deeply, the sound of a great creature finding the surface after losing his footing. As if nothing had happened, he turned on his heel for the door, once again focused on his next task, as if the survival of the world were based on completing it.

When the door closed behind him, Lucian relaxed, the tautness of his own frame easing away as if it had never been. If he had been forced to, he would have guarded this latest item of trade...even from a member of his own pack.

And eventually, he would have to guard it. Once he brought the blood-seer to the home den, he would have to soothe an entire pack. Teach them that tolerance was required for the greater good; that there was an advantage to be had from having a bloodseer in their reach. For like those before her, this woman could read blood, almost to the point of prediction. She could see the prospect of memories, the likelihood of choices, the path of a life as it might turn out. It was only harsh irony that Viktor had executed them all before they could flee their own fate. The blood of seers spilled as they spilled their secrets.

The Purge, it was called.

Taking a step towards the fire and warming his hands, he studied her face, tracing a path across the floor with his eyes. Though she slept, he was starting to believe Tanis had not moved her. Fleeing warmth, she had dragged herself to the floor, hauling her fragile body as far from the candles, flame, and light as she could get. The pale skin appearing in even worse condition under the shadows. The rat smell growing with the heat...and for all that she breathed, he was starting to have a very strong aversion to touching her.