Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

57 - Chapter LVII: Leaves upon Fire

Thirty-eight minutes later.

Though it would seem like a year, only a day had passed since all had been right in the London den. Rena crouching on the stairwell. Sabine bored with her studies. Reinette safe in her quarters. Only an hour since Lucian had escaped from the lycan Change Quarters. And now the sun already risen, making him wonder why the devil he was still listening to that voice. The one without doubt or consequence. A voice that condoned breaking into the Lycan Registry for the sake of a personal misadventure.

Their entry-point set in a bleak unassuming alleyway between two buildings. Four doorways on each side, every stone blackened by smoke, and every stoop covered in grime. Neither the cleanest nor the filthiest part of East London. Merely average. The urban squalor passing them by and the hour too early for anyone to look twice. Hawkers calling their wares. The lampworkers pulling their boots off, while children crawled fruitlessly among the refuse piles.

The back-breaking work of survival carrying more weight for the common man than the two lycans hiding in their midst. The Registry building rising only two stories above their heads, its upper half taking the guise of an old workhouse that more often than not was full. The few dogs behind its doors often describing the food as being 'spittle-drenched' on the best of nights and 'sewer-rot" on the worst. Its reputation for filth providing another reason for mortals to steer clear.

The necks of their coats turned up, they followed a line of dockers on their way to the piers, allowing them to pass through the streets unnoticed by lycan and mortals alike. Their faces already covered in dirt, so no extra effort there. Their steps taking them down the alleyway where Weylan now leaned against one of the walls, a docker's cap covering his face while his eyes kept tabs on the main street. Lucian was nowhere to be seen, his location going unnoticed for some time until the muffled sound of breaking glass announced his presence for anyone standing directly below. The world continuing to pass them by for the street was already used to such noises.

Weylan spoke without looking up. His words barely audible. "Have you found it, sir?"

"Almost." The voice came from above. Lucian, its owner, still invisible to passing eyes. If one could see what he saw, the view would comprise of a stone wall. A mixture of blood and glass on his fist. His hand reaching through a circular iron window as he began to feel for his entry-point. His fingers finally passing over the lock, its placement familiar to him, but the angle of his attack forcing him to rethink his choice of tool.

For of all the entrances to the Lycan Registry, this was the only one that could possibly be described as the 'complicated one.' The key to entering this door lying not so much in the door itself as the small window that existed three stories higher, flush against a four by three by thirty feet space between walls, the deep indentation seeming like an old forgotten chimney without a cover. With the street only a few yards away, the only method for scaling the wall undetected was to move vertically, bracing his feet and his back against the two opposite walls. One after the other until he was thirty feet above the ground-level.

Not the loudest, but certainly the slowest method for breaking and entering. With an eye to the ground, he pulled a leather wallet from his coat pocket, selecting a smaller choice from his tools before adjusting his position for the upteenth time. His good leg keeping him from falling three stories, while the other seemed content with merely holding until such time as it saw fit to break.

Three stories up a wall with only his boot and his back to stop the fall, he might have preferred to break the door down, his leg be damned. As it was, they were both aware of the danger behind the door. Like walking into a four-hundred and eighty pound mousetrap fashioned of steel, iron, and stone, with silver coating every sharp end, thereby preventing even the most stalwart of lycans from spending more time with any wounded appendages.