Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

12 - Chapter XII: The Rules of Drunken Combat

Outside. 9:15 pm.

The argument had not gone unnoticed.

Deathdealers swarmed the entrance of St. Matthias church like so many flies on a golden altar, backs leaning, legs crouching, watching him from the corner of their eyes. They were blocking his way. Scowling, Lucian stepped from the church's fold, letting the moon do its work, observing with some satisfaction as half the vampires departed, the first cohort slipping away into the shadows without a second glance.

It was not dread, but efficiency that propelled them. They knew the drill, understood their place in the scheme of things. The meeting was finished. Kraven was alive and well, and if a vampire got too close and had his head ripped off by claws, it would be the vampire at fault. Not him. A pity things were never that easy.

It was the second cohort that spelled trouble. Twelve of them still blocking his path, Soren standing to one side watching his trainees. They knew he was in a rush...they wanted to see him scramble. Languidly, Lucian tilted his head and eyed them. Pale, fresh...edible. They were a sleeker breed than the one before, sombre creatures recently turned and trained to replace those who had fallen in battle. Their faces were impenetrable. Their first run 'beneath' the underworld, the moment Kraven decided they were ready to know his face. Only the dead knew how they kept their secrecy with so many around him.

His gaze stopped on one in particular. Auburn hair which had not faded since its disappearance from the sun. This deathdealer... He sniffed the air ...this deathdealer had been human once. There was a grudging fearlessness in his eyes, sullen lips and bared fangs betraying how young he was. How inexperienced. Half these vampires were turned as youths, their blood younger than his shirt. Their loyalty to Kraven, but...

He took a step closer to the youth, halting in front of him and sniffing. It was a mirthless smile on his lycan face, he knew that, his teeth growing. He sniffed again. Surely this auburn-haired youth had heard the stories? Ruthless creature who never slept, burning the Elder's daughter and eating her bones after the flesh had gone. The moon reflecting in his eyes, did he measure up to their tales...

"Move."

The youth stumbled back. That would be a yes. To his right, Soren immediately jerked his head. The second cohort backed away, hushed, fading into the shadows, leaving the way free and clear. Lucian sniffed the air one more time...and then stalked off. Only an idiot bared food in front of a lycan during the full moon.

Twenty yards away, in the courtyard's centre, the stagecoach remained untouched, guarded by Goar. The man was patiently, but firmly crouching by the door. He stood as Lucian approached, taking hold of the door handle. Soren was still watching them, daring to follow despite the tension in the air. By no small chance, the pack-leader managed to pass directly in front of the lone deathdealer's line of sight. Quickly, Lucian slipped inside the coach, catching his balance before the door shut behind him. He had tripped over something. Someone. He held onto the siding, stripped of moonlight so suddenly, his eyes having to adjust for a split second...

...and when they did, he smiled grimly.

Not quite what he had expected.

Battered and still breathing, the bloodseer was unconscious on the seat, a nasty bruise spreading across her cheeks...she was breathing. On the floor, nursing a black eye, Raze exhaled dourly and opened his mouth. Swiftly, Lucian raised a curt hand before the man could speak, two fingers curving forward slightly, the index and thumb touching. It meant "silence." Or "save it for someone who cares," as most lycans had dubbed it since he'd started using the signal.