Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

10 - Chapter X: Bottles of Blood

Almost two hours later.

Blearily, Lucian woke up, his back stiff on the seat, his arm fast asleep, the heavy hand of Raze shaking him by the shoulder. Almost snapping, he shrugged the hand off, making a half-hearted attempt to raise his head, squinting around him. His vision was blurry, the vague sense of the ceiling above. No scent of danger from Raze. Somehow he had ended up splayed across both seats, his boots off, his head lying on something soft. Raze's coat, by the scent. Yawning, he let his head fall back, freeing his arm from under himself and curling up again. The nap had only made him drowsier, but at least the headache was gone. The air felt colder than before, the stage-coach moving at the same pace, the pebbly sound of wheels turning on cobblestone. They must be nearing the city already. Any second now, Raze would be shaking him by the shoulder again. Dangerous to be sleeping this close to their destination. Finally, he sat up, his hair out of sorts, yawning and stretching the neck muscles. He had been dreaming, running from something.

Where was...

...huh?

Rubbing his eyes, he let his vision adjust, shades of blue and silver emerging from the darkness, a startling scene spread out before him. The curtains had been drawn across the windows, and the blood-seer was curled up into a tiny ball, Raze sitting beside her, stern as ever, but now holding the two bottles of blood. One of her arms was folded under her head, the other wrapped around Theophrastus, her finger stuck between the pages as a place-marker. Her head was right next to Raze's knee, yet she was fast asleep, smelling content as a groomed cat next to its mother. Except its mother was a werewolf. Somewhat taken aback, Lucian squinted at her and then eyed Raze.

Raze grimaced suddenly. "I...she fell asleep...and the bottles would have fallen." His gravely voice was coming out surprisingly muted.

"Did I say anything?" Awkwardly, Lucian scratched the back of his neck, fighting the smirk growing on his face.

"No," the man conceded broodingly.

He shrugged as if to say 'there you have it' and started looking for his boots. As expected, they had been placed neatly on the wooden floor. He pulled them on one after the other, making sure the trousers covered the leather. Shaking off the tiredness, he stretched his left arm out, feeling numbness along some of the fingers, the result of having slept on it for over an hour. He frowned at the closed curtains, finding his watch and checking the time. 8:39 pm. Not too bad. They were still on schedule.

"You heard the knock?"

Raze nodded, meeting his gaze and then looking away. "Two minutes ago." If Goar had knocked on the ceiling two minutes ago, then it was approximately eighteen minutes before they reached the first district. Soren would be waiting for them there.

"She drank something?"

"Half a bottle. Passed right out."

"Good."

Lucian kept working his arm, trying to get feeling back in it. They should probably wake the blood-seer, though she looked ever so comfortable curled up beside Raze. He'd expected there to be tension while he slept, but instead, Raze had become the bloodseer's personal nursemaid now that the opportunity had presented itself. Probably one of the fiercest lycans in his horde. He glanced to his left. Oh no, Raze's coat was all crumpled. Whatever were they to do? Forgetting his arm, Lucian casually picked up the coat from the seat...

"Is this yours, Raze?"

Raze said nothing, brutally staring ahead.

"Because that was the finest sleep I have ever had." Frowning thoughtfully, Lucian shook the garment out. "I swear, it was like being on clouds, the perfect pillow. Leather is so yielding. Or maybe it's the scent." He sniffed the garment, squinting and holding the coat up higher as he investigated. "Parched horse-hair, axle-grease...and...mmm, tobacco. If I had a mother, I'd want her to smell just like that." Tenderly, he began to fold the coat, glowering over the creases... "I'll keep this until we get to the ship. With a good iron, I should be able to get the wrinkles out..."