Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

26 - Chapter XXVI: Bitter Sentiments

The Library. 12:48 am.

Four hours later, Lucian had retreated to the upstairs library, its drapes drawn and the fire low for the sake of the hour. As usual, he was comfortable in his solitude. The room was spacious, the walls panelled with ivy, cushions upon the chairs, and a pair of oak tables roosting on either side of a thick carpet. In contrast, the twelve bookshelves of the room were filled to their capacity.

He had spent nearly four hundred years amassing their collected value, every book a treasured find, every scroll bartered for its weight in knowledge. Running a hand behind the marble bust of a headless woman, he found the thinnest of his journals and took a seat, his chair facing the fire, the smell of archive lingering on his fingers. The marble bust looked on as he began to skim its pages.

Every night, though his followers were not aware, he made a habit of noting down the evening's occurrences; useless information to some, but a practical means of giving context to a lifestyle. At the end of the decade, it would be reviewed, any important details transcribed to a more covert location before the original was burned. Uncapping his pen, he turned to the last entry from three months ago and entered a new date below it...

...o...o...o...

Friday, 10 November 1899

"I. Dinner tolerable," he wrote. "New guest requiring introduction to society."

In retrospect, dinner had been short of tolerable. Those lycans in attendance had been predictably reserved, many of them asking after his journey, all of them neglecting to broach the one question on everyone's mind. Who or what had entered through the stables? Was it a vampire? Was it an ally? It was a testament to London society that an entire den could chew on something, while none dared bring up the point. Rather than stomach their whispers, within the week, he would make arrangements for a Gathering of the People, a meeting of the investors as well as the heads of those families who called the London den their home. They would need an official statement of her presence, though her purpose would not come to light for many months.

While dotting and crossing his letters, he added a very generic mark beside 'new guest', a personal reminder to check the dates of his travel journal when reviewing this notation. He had an excellent memory, but should Reinette fail to outlast the year, it would be beneficial to have a cross-reference as to who 'new guest' was. During their journey, he had always referred to her as 'branded stock'...or in English, an uptight, prying piece of...

He scratched out the mark.

...the reminder was not necessary. It would take more than a decade to forget the number of times 'new guest' had put the word 'bastard' in a sentence with him.

Moving on...

II. 'Lady requiring introduction to door.'

The word 'lady' lacked a cross-reference, not so much for the excellence of his memory, but because he no longer cared who 'lady' was. All of their names were listed in a book somewhere in this library, their lives spanning the past four hundred years. 'Jacqueline' would be joining them. Her behaviour during dinner had cemented his decision to move on. In a voice that carried, she criticised the food, the service, the company, and to make matters worse, the only one more oblivious to the mood was the dead pheasant on her plate. Past experience said he ought to be arranging her return home as soon as possible. Very few of his mistresses chose to remain in the vicinity after they were cast aside, Allegra being the only exception. Reminding himself to speak to Raze about the arrangements, he added his third and final notation.