Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

47 - Chapter XLVII: The Age of Demons

Ten seconds later.

The door shut behind the spotless Mr. Weylan. Giving her leave to let her breath out...admit to herself that she was now more comfortable. That she missed her veil. That her appearance was made all the more wretched in the company of this youthful stranger whose face was so sweet to the eye. The words of Lucian still ringing in her ears. The truth of his insults. But now she wanted more from him than just his insults. She wanted his memories—not of war, not of his years in hiding—but of something far older than that...

...the purge.

"You were there," she said with a deliberate emphasis on the last word. How could she have been so oblivious? He was old enough to remember. He had to be. So was Tanis. The thought making her wonder if all those years ago, she had asked Tanis the same question.

Lucian was thumbing his beard. "I'm not sure I understand the question."

"The purge of bloodseers." She was watching him, looking for some reaction, some hint as to what lay beneath his skin. "You were..." She was trying to be careful with that word. "...a slave...when the purge was happening. You were alive then."

"So?"

It felt like she was accusing him of something. "Did you see it?"

"You mean did I catch a glimpse through the bars," he said mysteriously. He was being taciturn, starting to roll his pen between his thumbs, eyeing the door. He had to remember, and yet, she had to be careful not to press him too far.

She leaned forward. "A glimpse, a sound..." She was trying to explain herself, at the same time realising the danger of this conversation. She must never betray Áris. "I was never raised in the covens, but there was a..." Say it. "...a war brewing to the east of us. I think the ones who taught me might have been a part of it, but the dates are...hazy for me.."

"A war..." His ears seemed to prick. "...what kind of war?"

She raised her shoulders, despite her own fears, choosing to speak the truth. "I think they were fighting the purge..." She was getting too close to speaking about her mentor. "...but I know I was at least a certain...age...when they left."

"How old?" He sounded bored, but she suspected the emotion was deceiving. Never one to ask unless he wanted an answer. Never one to linger without reason.

Her focus shifting back to her hands, trying to put together her answer. If she was not careful, another deal would fall on her head. "Perhaps I could tell you what year...or decade I was Changed if you could tell me...what you know about the purge or..." Her suggestions starting to sound like a lost cause. He had the upper hand. "...even show me. If I could read any of the history that you have..."

"There is no history." He scratched the back of his neck, finally turning around in his seat to face her rather than the door. "All the scrolls were destroyed," he added, resting his jaw on his chest, his shoulders starting to hunch down. "...so even if I accounted for what I remember, it would just be a memory."

"And that is all I need," she said hastily. It was the first time she had truly wanted anything from him. "Just a memory, Lyosha." She was already pulling her knees closer to her body, hoping to blood that he would not change his mind. In centuries past, she might have cringed at the idea of pleading to a lycan...but as with most of her decisions of late, she had no other choice. "Just so I can understand what happened."

"Memory and understanding are two different things, Reinette; I do not promise one over the other." He was being deathly serious, the casual manners stripped away in the face of something that actually mattered. "Nevertheless, if I tell you this, you sign that addendum. You tell Weylan everything he needs to know, and you get your papers cleared. Understood?"