Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

54 - Chapter LIV: A Death in the Night

Thirty minutes later.

For Lucian, it began with little warning. A flickering light on the horizon; the smoke starting to rise before the bells began tolling in the distance. The faint sound of horses screaming for mercy as though the devil himself had left a calling card. The unyielding beast between his legs rearing at the sound. The touch of his heels spurring its blood as he wrenched the bridle back towards the house. Cursing the hills for not letting him pass more quickly into hell.

Cursing the heat that always seemed to follow him. His evening ride bringing with it not peace but the sight of his home burning from afar. How could his home be on fire? The entire eastern wall of the stable-house enveloped in flame. Feeling his anger outweighed by fear; his dignity evaporating like the skin burning from his wife's face. So that by the time he reached his home, he was more animal than human. Tearing into the dismount, almost killing his horse in the process.

They would all burn if he did not reach the stable-house in time. The flames already licking the walls, threatening to devour the household of Kerr. Everything he had built and buried in the past four hundred years about to go up in smoke if they could not fight this blaze.

He could see the panic in their eyes. The horses fleeing the stalls with their tails on fire. The soldiers and servants sprinting back and forth, hauling water across the yard. Soot on everyone's faces so that for once he could blend with his own people. A worker. A beast. Watching his flesh starting to blacken. Hearing himself shout for Thomas to issue an order. Get them out. All of them. Ready to evacuate. Ready to leave through the catacombs.

The smells in the air speaking of lightning and thunder. But the air remaining dry. The hell raging below for a time that had lost its precision. The seconds escaping him for the first time in centuries. Estimation. That was all the fire had left him. The general sense that three quarters of an hour had passed in heat and sweat and smoke until finally he felt it...

...rain

The clouds roiling above them as the heavens parted. Lending their favour to the den. Raining down on them in a torrent as the stones became scorched, the ground black with ash, starting to ripple with heat and water. A number of the young ones hooting as the fire began to expire. Losing themselves in the downpour, clapping him on the shoulder, still ignorant of the crime that had transpired here. The blackened doors of the stable. The broken lock on the ground. The darker portion of his intellect able to spot the crime simply for having committed it so many times.

Arson.

The danger still lingering beneath his weariness. For the adrenaline had passed. The animal starting to sense the weakness of man. His hands starting to slip on his knees, feeling the sweat drip onto the wet cobblestones. His body asking for rest. Asking for respite. Asking for his drug so he could stop the inevitable. Stop his skin from itching. His hands from twitching. The Change that would creep up on him if he did not control it. Taking the seconds that he needed to think and plan. Assess and resolve anything that might be an obstacle...

...and then he started.

"McNally."

It was the first lycan in his line of sight. Trying not to bark up his lungs, he used his hands to sign the rest. Firearms. Ammunition. Enough for two contingents. Major and minor.

Soaked to the skin, McNally ducked his head, already sprinting for the main doors without looking back. He might be a wainwright, but they were all soldiers in this war. In a few seconds, he'd be in the hall, shoving one of the carpets aside. Rifles. Pistols. Revolvers. Grenades. If you could dream of a firearm, it was down there; and with the full moon in two days, he was taking no chances...