Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

21 - Chapter XXI: Snow and the Ivory Comb

Exiles' Quarter. The next morning.

5:45 am.

She was dreaming again.

She stood on a flat plain of snow, the sun blinding her. She remembered this day. Whining and curling into a ball on the ice, using her hands to cover her eyes, peeking through her mittens. She had seen her mother's feet. Beautiful snow-white boots made of the soft down of reindeer skin, the ends curling to meet the sun. Her mother had laughed and bent over to pull at her hands, telling her to get up. She had been mortal then. A mortal child. She remembered being afraid, wanting to stay outside of the cave. They were to going to meet her mentor. She did not want to go in the dark and her mother...her mother had called her name. Her mother had pulled her up by her hands and said...

Icy water splashed in her face, her covers thrown off. Yelling, she instinctively bit out and grabbed at the end of the blanket, but Rena was too quick for her. So much for her name. She was back in Paris...and it was freezing.

The lycan woman grunted something in French, gesturing with the empty pitcher in her hand before bundling the confiscated blanket under one arm. Still lethargic in spite of the water dripping down her face, she tried to process what Rena had said. It was one thing to learn French from a book and quite another to listen and understand.

Giving up, she pulled her sheet around her shoulders and got off the bed, following the woman into the toilette. Rena had returned the pitcher to its bowl and was now haphazardly collecting the toiletries on the table. A rag for cleaning her teeth, her veil, soap, a pair of stockings hanging from a hook, and a small leather bag. Its contents were splayed out on the table...an ivory comb and a small vial of scented oil.

Less than two days prior, Sabine had arrived at her doorstep, looking as solemn as an old maid visiting a Russian poor-house. Dressed in her beloved grey, the girl had sat with her for a full hour, speaking of books, her likes, her dislikes. All they needed was a samovar and the picture would be complete.

Before her leave-taking, the girl had given her a small bag, remarking as she did that hair, in general, ought to be combed. When she opened the bag, she found the ivory comb and the oil. It was easy to deduce where the first item originated from. Either the girl was a thief or such combs were common in the lycan den. It was unlikely Lucian had sent the gift through Sabine, so she would have to return the item when next she saw the bastard.

"What the hell are you doing?" she growled before she could stop herself. It was the first time she had spoken to Rena in three weeks and she was strongly aware she was mimicking Lucian's manner when he spoke to idiots. But when this whore was concerned, she had only contempt.

"Collecting your things. You are leaving." Speaking slower this time, as if to stupid child, Rena bundled the rag, veil, and stockings into a ball and reached for the comb. Before the woman could touch it, Reinette abruptly lunged forward, snatching the comb from the table, holding it behind her back.

"I thank you..." Severe, she held her hand out for the rest of the toiletries. If being polite kept this woman's hands off her belongings, she would do it. She was even forcing herself to speak French. "...but I will pack for myself, if you please."

Rena shrugged. "Be quick." Rather than hand over the items, the boorish woman let them drop on the grimy floor. Before she passed through the door, she pulled the sheet from Reinette's shoulders. Fine. Take it, she thought, shivering with the extra cold. Only a laundry woman runs after dirty linens.

Directing silent curses at the woman's back, she kneeled to pick up the fallen items, yanking one of the dry-cloths from the wall and laying it out, dumping the stockings and tooth-rag in its centre. She added her soap-bar, wash-cloth, the vial, and the leather bag on the table. The comb was not really hers, but she would keep the bag. Tying off the bundle and picking up the veil and comb separately, she returned to the other room. Rena was smacking the mattress with her palm as if searching for dust, the motion only throwing up the occasional piece of straw. Rude woman. She continued to the door. Her bags were already packed, the books as well, and other than adding the toiletries and Lucian's comb to the side pocket, she had no need to search through it. For the past three weeks, she had made a practice of laying out her clothes in preparation for the next day.