1 comments/ 2947 views/ 0 favorites Soul of Evil By: SweetSexySwitch Prologue To Hell Time is a linear sort of thing, but it's not smooth or level. Like a meandering river it has peaks and valleys. If one looks close enough it has something else that makes it amazing. It has bubbles, or rather it seems to be made up of bubbles. Large, small, nestled against and within one another, they cluster together like so many random thoughts to form a path. Bubbles have membranes and membranes allow for the passage of things; ideas, beliefs or events. Back up a bit and look at the larger picture once more and you'll see puddles in time, where fat clusters of bubbles move sluggishly and gather like some great pile of eternal foam. It is in one of these puddles, like a puddle by the sea, that these events transpire. It is a single bubble, into which ideas and culture from its neighbors have seeped. It is a vast and ancient puddle. There are many social and economic seepages. There are time seepages as well, so that within this single, solitary bubble you find many things from different times and places. Indoor plumbing co-exists easily with magic and mystical creatures. There are dragons, vampires, elves, pixies, and men. The potential of combinations between these are infinite. You have names and persona's from other bubbles in this puddle, diluted or muted by their passing through the membranes, so that they are familiar and yet they are unique unto this bubble of time. The social class system seems to have fared better, perhaps because humans are so adaptable and mutable that no matter the number of membranes they slid through they retain their sense of self, or place. Whatever the cause, social classes endure in this bubble. They give structure to its shimmering exterior. All bubbles seem to look alike, but as they are all along the slipstream of time they must be different, or else they are not separate things. This bubble, the one we are focused on, the one in the vast, sluggish puddle in the river of time, is known only as Nexus. Within Nexus there are vast cities, rolling plains, tiny hamlets, soaring mountains and far more. It is vast and in many ways still unexplored. There are other points in Nexus. Points that time has been gentler upon, where it has flowed through slowly, gently, shaping without corroding. In those places great stories unfold. Stories and lives. Hopes and dreams of inhabitants. Some are just human, common, uncommon, fragile and mortal, upon which time feeds. Commoner or noble, it makes no difference to time. Others are more resilient. Dragons, long ago blended with humans, like a lazy eddy of seepage, making both more than the individual parts that had combined. Dragons that appeared human, but with a thought could assume their original form. Dragons that evolved because of the human strain, to have a third form, a form of the soul if you will. Vampires, some retaining the attributes from other bubbles and places, some forming new, to adapt to this new bubble. All valid, all possible. Even names can cross these time membranes, names from history, from literature, great names, minor names. Names familiar in works of fiction in other bubbles, become something different as they blend with what is now in this bubble. Within our bubble there is a city. Within the city is a social-economic structure that is both Victorian and modern, nobility and clever indoor plumbing. References to writers and beings that have both been and yet will be. The city is called Midraven, a moderate-sized, sprawling city built predominantly of brick, granite and wood. The majority of its inhabitants are involved in finance and politics and it is considered noteworthy for its massive carved gates and lush public gardens. It houses all manner of peoples. No one looks at anyone too closely. Neighbors don't always know what each other is about. It is a good place to hide, to vanish, or to re-make oneself. It is a good place to have an extended life span. It is a good place to start. Chapter 1, A Quiet Evening Considered by many in the area to be one of the most eligible bachelors, Viscount Nickodemus Bedlam II opted to not play the social butterfly this night, but instead to spend the evening at his townhouse reading. This in and of itself was unusual for Viscount Bedlam. Being more a creature of the night then many in the area; as vampires kind of tend to be; he was often seen at parties, balls and operas throughout the city. His presence had in fact become an expected sight, but not tonight. He didn't really care if the politely declined invitations caused sad sighs or annoyance, he was his own person and point blank, he wasn't in the mood to be sociable tonight. All of this is how he came to be settled in his library, dressed in a loose cream shirt and dark green pants, his hair down instead of up in its customary ponytail, a brandy in one hand and his nose stuck in a good book. Not for the last time would he be grateful to be more than a common, garden-variety vampire. As he'd not been born human, but rather a dragon/ gypsy blend, he'd never fully lost the ability to at least drink things other than blood. In a city that had a significant vampire population, it made him both loathed and respected. The first he didn't give a damn about, and the second he exploited to the hilt whenever he needed to. The library was one of the many rooms in what he called his "townhouse" where there was no sign of his darker inclinations. The floor was a rich teak, interspersed with exotic hand woven rugs in greens and creams. The walls, what could be seen of them, were a warm cream color, which accented the rich oak of the bookcases and had well spaced copper wall sconces with green candles. There was an elaborate bar tucked in one corner, a massive green marble fireplace in the center of the wall next to it, and elegant leather chairs with matching tables before the fireplace. At the far end of the room were more soaring book cases, and a heavy oak desk that was almost large enough for a small child to sleep on. There were also several tables for research. The back wall was hung with velvet drapes that blocked any and all light from the French doors that lead out to a balcony. Sipping now and again from the snifter, and turning the pages one-handed, using his strikingly long crimson nails to flick the pages, he heard the distant pounding on his front door. He never glanced up, but he did pause in his reading. Bloody hell, he thought taking a sip, now what? He gave a soft snort of annoyance, hoping feverently that it was just some page sent to harangue him for not being at such-and-such's party. He started to put the book down and go deal with the incessant pounding on his door, however the sound of Phillips brisk steps reassured him that everything was under control. His Chamberlain was extraordinary at chasing off people when Nick didn't want to see them. As he knew he'd made the instructions quite clear earlier when he'd awoken regarding guests and social engagements; mainly there were to be none; he went back to his book without a second thought. Less than a week before Scythe Arkenlight had stood in her tower, jotting a last few notes in her book when she became aware of time. Aware of in the sense that much had passed. It was easy for her to lose track of it, here in her tower, overlooking the small hamlet, whose name she'd forgotten now. Her experiments kept her amused, at least while they lasted. Scythe pushed a stray strand of her red hair off her face with an exasperated sigh. Eyes the color of dried blood looked over at the remains of her last subject, then back to her book of notes. If I don't take these to Tala now, she thought grimly, she'll come looking for me and them and she'll bibble and blather at me for months, all with that horrid green crayon. Scythe knew her twin too well, as she should. Despite her appearance, Scythe and her siblings weren't exactly human. Scythe's family was human in form for the most part, but the Arkenlight clan is not really what they seem. Some would call them demigods, derived and born of a far older race, with extraordinary powers that most see and perceive as godlike. These powers are derived and based on each individual member's soul, and come to the forefront of their persona's only with maturity. In short, their souls are the souls of a god, tremendous power, but due to its need of a body, they are not quite gods. With another sigh, she started to gather a few things, when another thought occurred to her. Setting the book down, she walked swiftly over to the wall of her tower. The wall was covered almost floor to ceiling with small holes. They were an inch to an inch and a half in diameter and lay flush against the dark stone. She tapped her finger nail against her teeth as she scanned the wall, finally reaching to a hole above and to her right, extracting a small scroll. Walking back to the desk, her velvet gown making only the softest of whispers, she unrolled the scroll. I thought so, she thought, rolling the scroll back up with a smile. Looks like I'm going to kill two birds with one stone. Deliver my notes, thus keeping Tala from being an annoyance and see if this Lord Nickodemus Bedlam fellow will part with a book. Tossing the scroll on the table, she picked up her book of notes and a cloak. With a purposeful step she headed toward the door of her tower, giving her latest victim a gentle pat on the shoulder, or what had been a shoulder, as she went by, "You just wait here for me, I'll be back my dear." With light steps she made her way to the bottom of her tower and once outside paused to look up. It's dark gray stones seemed to almost shimmer in the pale moonlight as she pulled the door shut. She had no real concerns as to the locals trying to get into her tower, but one could never be too careful, which is why she grimly locked the massive door before beginning the walk into the hamlet to secure transportation to Midraven. Almost a week later she stepped from the carriage and shook out her cloak before looking around. The driver had said that the house she sought would be just up the road, but had refused to take her any further, saying that no sane person drove a carriage anywhere near that road after dark unless they had dark business. He'd been adamant and no amount of threatening would budge him. Scythe gave a annoyed sniff and began walking, her shoes making a brisk tapping on the stones of the road. The only other sounds were the soft guttering of the torches that lined the road. The silent facades of the granite and brick houses the only obvious witnesses to her trek. She'd been given a clear description of Lord Bedlam's residence, the only black marble facade on the street, with a copper dragon door knocker, couldn't miss it she'd been informed. She was still vexed with the carriage driver, but as she reached the middle of the long block, her vexation faded, replaced with something like relief. There, bold as you please, was the facade and the door knocker. She hastened through the black iron gate that surrounded the grounds and up the four steps to the door. Taking a deep breath, she took hold of the knocker and banged it sharply, then crossed her arms and waited. "Someone had better answer this thing but quick." she muttered, even as she began tapping her foot impatiently. She was tired of waiting, of stupid people, of the necessity of having to even make this trip. There was the sound of brisk footsteps, and then the door was opened by a middle-age man in livery of black and copper. "May I help you?" Her eyes drifted up and down him, with disdain and scorn flashing in her dried blood colored eyes, "Hmmmm, yes you will help me, I seek the Lord of this Manor, Nickodemus Bedlam. I will speak with him." Phillip drew himself upright and matched her look with one that bordered on pure snobbery. "Indeed madam... and whom might I tell him is insisting on seeing him at this hour?" His eyes flickered up and down her with hauteur. This woman, whoever she is, certainly seems to think much of herself, he thought, despite her appearance. Looks me up and down like I was a bit of lint. He'd been given strict instructions regarding visitors and guests this eve, there were to be none. He was about to close the door when she answered him. Scythe raised an eyebrow sharply. "A friend of a guest, now go and fetch your Lord and fetch him quickly if you wish to keep that tongue," came the chilled, sharp reply, her head cocked to the side as her eyes met his. His nostrils flared at her impudent tone, not phased by her look. If she takes that tone with the Viscount she may find that sitting or anything else for that matter will be uncomfortable at least. Be interesting to see her match arrogant looks with the Viscount though. I'd wager the rest of my salary she'd lose. That man could freeze Satan himself with his glare, he thought with amusement. "Hardly the manners of any whom Viscount Bedlam would care to associate with... however...", he opened the door further to allow her to step inside, "if madam would be so good as to wait here I shall see if the Viscount is receiving this eve." His tone was firmly polite. This was not the first, nor the last time he'd had to deal with strange women on his master's doorstep at odd hours, so he'd learned the best way to handle them, and his master. However, this might be a bit tricky tonight. She stepped in, shooting him another glance, and lowered the hood of her cloak, shaking out her red hair briefly before smoothing it back into place, her pale complexion in stark contrast to the black of her garments. "Yes, go fetch, little doggy." ,she dismissed him with a half-wave and began studying the entryway. Beneath her feet was a polished gray and black marble floor that softly reflected the dim light from the scattered copper wall sconces holding deep green candles. As her eyes drifted up, they could not help but be captivated by the dramatic double stairway, ornately carved in black cast and wrought iron, studded with copper rosettes. The walls were pale as well, and heavy deep green velvet curtains interspersed themselves along them. The decor was sparse, but expensive. Vases on ebony tables, along with several small statues in erotic positions gave the entry hall both a noble and yet somehow sinister air. With a faint sniff of disdain, Phillip turned on his heel briskly, moved across the broad entryway to a pair of sliding oak doors at the far end and eased one open. He knew his orders, but this woman, whoever she was, might actually intrigue the Viscount, if he handled it just right. She might give him someone to snarl at besides the staff. In any event, her arrogance and rudeness have earned her at least this little treat. "My Lord, I know you said that there were to be no disturbances, however this one might require your attention." He kept his voice low as he always did. Nick never looked up, but turned a page, "Are they wielding a stake Phillip?" "No, My Lord. She is not." "She?" Nick looked up, raising a brow. "Did She give a name?" "No, My Lord." "Then you are disturbing me for...?" Nick's eyes glittered dangerously as he regarded his Chamberlain. "Because, My Lord, she has the bearing of nobility, the dress of nobility and the mouth of a rather crass tart and is most insistent that she speak with you. I thought that perhaps, with your skill in adjusting manners, she might benefit from your elegant wisdom." Phillip paused, seeing the dangerous glint in Nick's eye. Think quick here Phillip or you're the one to get snarled at. He took a deep breath and threw out the one thing he knew would get Nick's attention. "She also mentioned an interest in a guest of yours, whom I would venture a guess to be the Lady Tala." Phillip managed to keep a straight face through his explanation, however his pale blue eyes sparkled with mirth. This should be interesting indeed. Nick regarded Phillip levelly, then nodded. "If you have made an error in judgment Phillip, your life is forfeit." He marked his page with a finger and stood. "I will deal with her. Secure the front door and go." Phillip gave a silent gulp at the warning and nodded. Point taken My Lord, he thought as he turned briskly to do as he'd been told. He never doubted the Viscount was not only capable of carrying out the threat, but that he'd delight in it taking a very long time to accomplish it. Early on in his service he'd witnessed what happened to those who failed the Viscount. One of the serving girls had failed to follow the Viscount's orders regarding table settings. The wrong napkin rings had been used. The Viscount had never raised his voice, but he'd talked to the girl. Softly, calmly, he'd talked to her, until she came within easy reach of him. Then, without blinking he'd grabbed her and snapped her neck before turning and walking out of the dining room. Phillip had changed the offending napkin rings and never forgot the ease or lethal calmness that the Viscount had exhibited in exacting punishment. Scythe couldn't hear what was being said, merely the exchange of murmured words at the far doorway. After a moment of this the man gave a curt nod, turned and came back past her. There was a soft snick as the front doors behind her locked and then the man seemed to vanish. It was only a moment later when the doors at the far end of the entry hall slid open completely and Nick stood in the center of them, brandy snifter in one hand, and a book in the other. "So, I hear that an unknown crass mouthed tart wishes to speak with me?" his tone quiet yet slightly amused as he regarded her from his end of the entryway. Even though he'd been explicit in his orders, he could allow a bit of fluctuation when Phillip described visitors as he had this one. Clever man to catch his curiosity. She does indeed have the bearing of some sort of nobility, he thought. Something set Phillip's teeth on edge about her though. Her eyes drifted up to him casually, though she hid a tight little smile, "Lord Bedlam I presume, and I would watch what you say, many men have lost their tongues for less than that. However, yes I will speak with you, on two matters, one involving a guest of yours and the other some books, that are in your possession." As she spoke she unclasped her cloak and draped it over her forearm. Okay, nobody said anything about him being yummy, she thought. From the way the carriage driver went on I expected the man to look like some sort of warped troll, or at the very least classic Nosferatu. Beneath the cloak, she was dressed in a velvety black gown, the front of which was cut in such a way as to subtly accent the fullness of her bosom. The waist was snug and barely flared over her hips. The skirt was slit up one side to give a flash of smooth leg as she moved. "Indeed." One eyebrow raised as his mouth twisted into a sardonic half smile, "Well then dear.... lady..", his tone showing his doubt in using that particular word for her, "pray, won't you come sit and explain?" He gave an almost mocking little bow while extending his arm in a sweeping motion, inviting her into the room. If she's got the guts to show up at this hour, dressed like that and being sassy to boot, I think I want to know why, he thought as he made the mocking bow. "Oh, for the record madam, it's Viscount." he added in a dry tone. Best nip that little issue in the bud. He'd more than earned the bloody title and he had come to actually delight in the sound of it, not to mention the emotions it tended to arouse in common folks. She sniffed quietly and made her way into the room, shooting him a flat glance complete with bleak smile. She walked across the room with nary a sound but the swish of her dress, and set her cloak over the back of a chair as she examined the room. The room of a spoiled noble all right; lovely. Bet Tala made him crazy with her babble and questions. She could feel his eyes following her every move. Soul of Evil "Unnamed crass mouthed tart or no madam you certainly have walking down." his voice still holding amusement. Where the hell does she get off sauntering like she owns the place? "Perhaps while I offer you a drink you might be so gentile as to divulge your name, as you seem to be well aware of mine." He'd restrained the irritated urge to swat her on the backside with the book in his hand as she swished past him. Definitely not from this region. The females around here couldn't walk like that if I threatened to beat them into an orgasm. Not that any of them are worthy of that but still. She settled into a chair crossing her legs and glanced at him, "I will have a red wine; something local." came the cool reply. "My name is Scythe, and, as I have said, I come on two fold business." He watched her from the doorway, right up until she was settled, then gave a curt nod of his head, setting the book down on a small table as he passed it, heading toward the bar. "Then I bid you a good eve Scythe... interesting name..." Scythe huh.. named after a functional but peasant tool. Interesting. Reaching the bar he set his own glass down, procured an elegantly cut wine glass and opened a bottle of wine with practiced ease. "You mentioned I believe, something regarding a guest of mine?" Turning with the filled glass in his hand, and picking up his own in the other he walked back to her with cat like grace. He offered the wine glass to her, its contents a rich, deep red, reflected in the partial lighting of the room. He could feel her eyes on his every move, watching perhaps even appraising. This didn't bother him, this was at least normal. He knew exactly what she saw, a tall, handsome man with hair that was as bright as a new copper penny, and emerald green eyes that could devour your soul, who moved with all the grace of a stalking predator. This is what most women saw when they looked at him. He knew, he'd investigated this quite thoroughly and used it unmercifully when targeting his meals. He had done this so often that it was his nature rather than any act. She took the glass delicately, with a small nod of thanks, "Yes, a woman by the name of Tala Arkenlight, her last whereabouts puts her here, in your manor." Scythe replied evenly. Oh good gravy, must we dance around this social nice-nice crap? He moved to sit in a chair across from her, quirking a brow at the mention of Tala's name. "And your interest in her would be?" his tone still quiet but his entire body language screamed of a cat suddenly alert and focused. He tended to react that way when his guests were sought out by people he didn't know. Tala Arkenlight had indeed been staying with him briefly, as she had managed to track him down to this semi-remote town. The only reason he'd agreed to her invading was because the alternative was to have a very flighty blonde with a razor sharp mind camped on his doorstep with a large book and a green crayon in the hopes of ambushing him. Ambush followed by a steady stream of babbled questions regarding any contact with the rest of her family. As a guest he considered her under his personal protection. Just because she wasn't there at the moment didn't change that fact in his mind. She took a slow sip of her wine and nodded in approval, "It seems you have good taste in wines. My interest, Viscount Bedlam, is this." She restrained a cold smirk as she stressed his title ever so slightly. With a wave of her hand a heavy leather bound book appeared in her lap, "My notes," her voice taking on a certain dark glee at that statement, "for her little book." As he listened he took a slow sip of his own drink, "Thank you." Out of habit he ran his tongue over one fang. He'd done it for centuries, first as an exploratory sort of thing; as his fangs would never fully retract; and then later for the sheer effect of it. He eyed the book carefully, "Indeed. You are beating around the bush, Scythe. Who is Tala to you, and why would your notes be of interest to her?" his tone still quiet but growing sleekly intense. It was bad enough to have his quiet evening disrupted without having to dance around the mulberry bush to find things out. Normally he would have delighted in the game, but not this night for some reason. I think I see what set Phillips teeth on edge. Easy enough on the eyes but she's hard on the patience. Scythe sighed softly, rolling her eyes. Could he be just a bit more tedious and tenacious about this thing? "I was hoping not to expound upon that however, I am her sister, and my notes would interest her in so far as they contain a written record of those that have met me. She is putting written accounts from others into the book on our family's history and it's that time of decade or so when I hand her mine, as most of the ones that encounter me don't live long enough for her to get around to interviewing." Nick's brow quirked, even as he set his glass aside, stood and walked over to in front of her. Tala has a sister? he thought as he approached Scythe, If she hadn't said anything I wouldn't have guessed. She's good. "One would never know; unless one chose to look past the surface that is; that you two were even remotely related." he commented urbanely as he held his hand out, "Might I?" His voice revealing little as he eyed the book with something between caution and curiosity. While his curiosity was peaked by Scythe's hints about the book's contents, he was still cautious. He hadn't always been, and it had had some rather disturbing consequences. There were books that his former bond-mate Tabarvis had that he'd made the mistake of perusing, briefly, and the memory of the contents of some of them still made him shudder. He wouldn't consider himself squeamish by any stretch of the imagination; however there are some things that you don't want to read. Scythe's eyes gleamed with a wicked delight at his request. "Yes, I take measures to ensure we look very little alike. There was a problem when we were identical." Mostly that people seemed to confuse us and Tala isn't capable of what I am in some realms. She handed the book to him with a widening smile, "Of course, it's only notes and a few bits of data on some subjects, but you are more than welcome to look it over," Her tone almost nonchalant as she took another sip of her wine, "although some would find its contents disturbing." And now we come to the part where he looks at the first page and recoils in horror! Nick took the book easily, balancing it in one hand while opening it with the other. Whatever else this book contained, he doubted it would give him the cold shudders. It just didn't have the right feel to it. "Don't judge a book by its cover Scythe, as they aren't always what they seem." he commented almost blandly with a dark sort of chuckle, even as he began to skim the contents, the last words of many men and women, as well as a few well documented accounts of her experiments on them. Her documentation is really rather good, he thought letting his eyes dance over her words. Illustrated too? My, my, Scythe, you are definitely more than what you seem. "Oh really?" she said as a brow cocked slowly, as she took another sip of her wine. That he hadn't shut the book almost instantly or recoiled in horror from what he read within actually almost impressed her. Well, well, could it be that he's actually not afraid? Scythe had come to expect over the years varied reactions from those that glimpsed her notes, including from her own family, ranging from mild disgust to outright horror and revulsion. He scanned the pages for a moment longer as another sardonic smile twisted his lips. Who would have thought an Arkenlight could be so deliciously nasty? he thought as he calmly shut the book and handed it back to her, "Not exactly light bedtime reading now is it?" Except for me maybe. Tala will have nightmares I suspect. She took the book with a wicked smile before setting it in her lap. That's the understatement of the year, she thought. "Not really no, but then again it's all in the eye of the beholder, now isn't it?" she replied before she drained her glass and set it and the book on the table beside her. "That is the business I have with my sister. Pleasant, no?" He gave an almost roll of his eyes as he returned to his chair picking up the brandy snifter once more and taking a sip. "Indeed it is all in the eyes of the beholder." He idly tapped his nails on the glass, setting it to chiming softly, as he considered everything thus far. This Scythe woman wasn't nearly as bad as what his Chamberlain had implied, this was becoming rapidly obvious. Arkenlights aren't Bedlams, ergo despite the content of the notes, Tala was safe enough from physical harm. "It would seem that you mean no harm to Tala and though I doubt the notes are her sort of reading, I see no great harm in getting them to her." he conceded giving a slight shrug of one shoulder and taking another sip. "Of course I mean her no harm, even if I did I wouldn't have gotten this far. Now then, as far as business with you...wait...Is she not here?" His last words finally registering. Oh my god! Tala you scattered brained ninny! Can't you stay put for a week so I don't have to hunt your annoying blonde ass down? Nick offered an urbane smile as he replied, "Alas she is not at the moment, but has once more taken off to go play with my chyld and his," he cleared his throat softly, "companions." His sole creation, Dimitrius had stayed with him for many years until he'd learned of his own heritage and gone to claim it. With both a wife and a mistress now he had his hands full, but when they'd met Tala while visiting, they'd invited the flightiest of the Arkenlights to come visit them at their home in the Carpathius mountains to the north. Scythe cursed under her breath. This was one thing she hadn't counted on was for her sister to not be in the one place she'd finally tracked her down to, "And I must be the one handing it over to her to keep things authentic. You understand I'm sure." Lovely, just lovely. Well bother, then it'll wait a while longer. At least books don't just take off to go do whatever. If she couldn't hand her notes to Tala, then maybe the rest of her errand wouldn't be in vain, so she plunged on, "Now to my other business, it has come to my attention that there are certain books in your possession of a dark nature. I would know what it would require to transfer ownership of them to me." Nick hated being caught off guard, so his mood shifted almost instantly from mildly cordial to almost frigid even before Scythe had finished. I knew there had to be a catch. I should have guessed from her bloody notes that she'd want those books. She must think I'm some sort of an idiot if she thinks I'd turn one of the darkest collection's of necromancy and demonology tomes over to an Arkenlight! He fixed her with an unblinking and cold gaze, his voice matching his look, "As those particular books were purchased and created with the souls of far too many innocents and blood, I don't think you can afford them." allowing himself a partial bleak smile as he continued, "Besides which, they are not for sale." He wasn't exaggerating much in his assessment of what those particular books had truly cost; if anything he'd been understating the matter. He didn't waste a thought as to how she'd come by the knowledge of his ownership of them. While it wasn't common knowledge, those who traveled in certain circles would always be able to locate books of this nature and the persons that owned them. This wasn't the first offer to be made to him, but he would handle it the same way as any other, flat refusal. Besides, they'd been given into his safe keeping by Dimitri years before. Safekeeping meant just that; safe. She licked her lips slowly in a building frustration, matching his look with her own deathly stare. This definitely wasn't what she had expected and coming on the heels of being thwarted in her first task, did absolutely nothing to improve her disposition, "Then, I would study them, for contained in them are things vital for my research, and it has nothing to do with conjuring daemons or raising the dead." she countered, fighting to not grit her teeth. Could this man be any more aggravating? "Research?" his tone sharpening. He was not particularly fazed by her look, but in fact was, in some deep part of him, impressed with her ballsiness. It has been a long time since anyone; any woman; has dared to actually stand up to me when I'm irritated, he thought with a wry grudging admiration. "The study of those books would take several life-times Scythe and frankly, I'm not sure that I would care to have you as a house guest for that long." He retorted flatly. Because even if I did agree those books don't leave this house. She sighed heavily letting some of her frustration out, and fixed him with a level look. "I am not into bargaining, however, I would know then what would it take to gain access to the pages I need and those pages alone?" rapping her nails on the arm of the chair, much like an agitated cat would twitch its tail. He took a deep silent breath, unsure for a moment whether to blow up at this stubborn woman or just give in. He was inclined toward an explosion. He'd been having a delightfully quiet evening until she'd invaded his house. Never mind that he could have told Phillip to drive her off instead of inviting her in. "I'm not sure. Give me a few hundred years to think about it." That should put an end to this foolishness, he thought as his eyes fell on her tapping nails. "That's a good way to chip them, you know." He gave himself a mental swat at how completely inane that last comment was and frankly wasn't even sure why he said it. Had he looked deep enough in himself though he would have seen that he echoed words from centuries before, when he was very young, from the creature that had sired him, as he had then, and still had, the same habit of tapping his nails when irritated or thinking. She quirked a tiny smile at his comment, her eyes dancing. "I am afraid that I do not have a few hundred years to think about. Well in that sense that I am like the rest of my family for the most part free from the chains of death, I need those pages for a few tests. I can offer you and in fact will offer you anything and everything at my disposal." Her lips curled as she spat out the last word, "Please." He gave a mental sigh, Now her resemblance to Tala shows itself in the long winded almost babble. "Though your pathetic attempt at real manners is a marked step forward, and the information about you intriguing indeed, I fear my answer remains. I can not think of a single thing that you could possibly offer me that would convince me to release those books." Recalling the brandy snifter in his hand, he drained it in a single smooth motion, setting the empty glass on the small table beside him, then took up the seeming idle study of his own nails. Let her chew on that for a while, he thought. Scythe sighed and rubbed her eyes. This was a bit more then she'd bargained for, and she'd been outmaneuvered. "Very well, if you will not even allow me access to the pages I need then how about a trade of some sort? You see, those pages are extremely vital. How about this idea; give it a few days. We can get to know one another better, then perhaps you'll see that I mean no real harm with those pages, for the most part. They are for a few experiments on subjects I already have and could prove quite useful to our family." "And in the event that I am still not convinced you'll drop the subject?" he replied, glancing up from his nails. "Mmmmm...," she pondered it briefly before nodding curtly. "If it would give me the slightest of chances, yes." Half a loaf was better then none at this point. She despised having to bargain like this for the information, but she also really wanted that knowledge. "Very well then, one week. You have one week to convince me Scythe and if at the end of that week I am still not convinced, you'll take yourself from these premises and not return, for any reason. Deal?" She nodded again "Deal." "Good." he gave a curt nod. "Would you like a refill?" Changing tone and subject all in one smooth move, flicking a glance at her empty glass. He'd won that round and that was what he'd wanted. Suffering with this stubborn woman for a single week was worth the security of not letting those books or their contents become available. Oh yes, he'd already made up his mind that at the end of a week she wouldn't convince him. "Please that would be lovely. You must tell me where this wine is made, I would purchase some for my reserves." He flowed to his feet to retrieve her glass, chuckling, "It's local, in fact my chyld is the producer of it. His prices are- well some have called them outrageous and obscene, but I think it's a fair price for the quality." He moved to refill her glass. "There's nothing wrong with paying for the best." she said with a smooth shrug. "To hear the folks around here howl you'd think he was charging in blood..," he gave a soft laugh as he returned with the filled glass and offered it to her. She laughed softly as well, though dark inflections rang in it. "Well, it has been shown that mortals can be rather unpleasant for the most part when it comes to prices." She took the glass with a nod, "Thank you again. You are a gracious host indeed." He gave a slight bow, "I do so try." Amusement laced his voice as he cocked his head slightly, not moving from in front of her. "Actually I've found that this area is more prone to what I call "penny pinching affluence" than other regions. Money, most have here... but spend it on something other then balls or baubles or stocks and bah! They howl like new-born babes." His amusement changed to a mild disgust. Even though he'd been in this region for many years, he never got over just how cheap the local nobility was. Now that things had been settled, he'd relaxed a bit. It was rare enough to be able to have a conversation with an intelligent person, much less a woman, that he drank it up like ambrosia. Even without trying Nickodemus Bedlam oozed charm and wit. At the moment it practically gushed from him. Such a delightful visual he'd invoked. A rare delicate laugh rang from her mouth. It wasn't hard for her at all to envision local nobility in swaddling cloths, wailing and howling. "Indeed? Well, it seems that even, nay especially, the rich are prone. Why have money if you do not spend it on the best, that is why one gets money, in an effort to show one's own power and status with the throwing around of money...sadly it does seem that those with it do not spend it as freely as they once did." She gave another shrug as she took a sip from her glass. Nick watched her, a half smile forming at the sound of her laugh. It had been longer than he realized since a laugh of that caliber had graced his ears, and it felt, well, good. "Perhaps so," he replied. "I suspect it is from fear, fear that they will spend it and not be able to acquire more. A silly fear, but palatable enough until something better arises." Had he meant to let that little tidbit slip out? Probably not and something in him was relieved that Scythe, for all her quickness, didn't pick up on it. Due to his original nature before he was created, he fed on more than just blood. It added variety, but also made him far more dangerous then your garden variety vampire. Emotions, especially the negative ones such as fear, were as much a source of sustenance as blood. "Indeed, fear is a powerful motivator, even in the region I make my home, they are loath to spend aside from the large amounts of parties and balls, which are generally nice, but it gets tiresome after a bit. And there is nothing to be done about it, sadly." she replied as she took another sip of her wine savoring the flavor, while smiling at him above the rim of the glass, "So tell me, what is someone so urbane and obviously sophisticated doing in these parts?" Scythe was now intrigued by this man. Dark yet charming, certainly not what you would expect in a semi-backwater city such as this one. Soul of Evil Nick actually grinned a bit, even as he turned and pulled his own chair closer before settling in it once more, "Making sure I don't wake up with a case of wood through my chest or a deadly sunburn." Scythe laughed again, "Indeed, I can understand that, it seems a good place to hide from would be assassins. Oh how I detest those people. They act grim, like death follows their every footstep, but in truth they know not the sweet call of him." Nick gave a contemptuous snort. "Actually their more like a rash, irritating and annoying." He gave a lazy shrug as if to dismiss that part of the conversation. "Far easier to find someplace that keeps me both amused and alive, so to speak. And actually I've only run into a few in remote places, amateurs, all of them." He found himself starting to grin again. Whatever else this woman was, she certainly was enjoyable to talk with. She threw back her head and laughed, a deep rich full laugh. "Oh my! That certainly is a good one. I have encountered numerous that seem to think that pale skin and a generally dark nature you're automatically a vampire. Alas for their poor souls if you will, but their screams were delightful. I mean running around trying to put a stake in my chest. Those things chafe horribly and can ruin a perfectly good outfit." Something shivered in harmony at her real laugh, something deep inside him, even as he too laughed a rich almost dark laugh. "Truly it must be an amusing sight." Holding up a finger, he said, "You forgot the hassle, though, of the splinters, which play havoc with removal." His eyes glittered with amusement. "Funny how they never think that a bit of sanding would do much to at least improve the image if not the actual effect." It had been a very long time since he'd had a discussion of this nature. Even during his time with the Count, he'd been kept to a strict standard. She nodded in agreement, still laughing. "Oh dear gods, yes! You know I once spent an entire week removing those things from my body. Nasty little bastards." She shuddered slightly at the recollection of digging the splinters out, before continuing, "Indeed, a nice coat of varnish would add some style to that crude thing they steal from a carpenter." Nick laughed, a true, natural laugh that sang with tones both dark and vibrant. It was a laugh that you felt as well as heard. It lit his eyes up to an almost glowing emerald. "Quite, though I've never had the 'fun' of actually attempting the removal of splinters from my own chest, I've dug one or two out of a finger. Do you know what has always mystified me though and that I have yet to get an answer to?" In the back of his mind he wondered at how Scythe seemed to just fit in. She wasn't afraid of him, but she wasn't a threat either, she just fit. Nick never lacked for female company, in fact he often had more then he wanted at times, however it had been a very long time since any woman had been able to hold her own in personality much less match wits with him. Scythe raised an eyebrow in curiosity and flashed him a full smile. How could she not in the wake of that laugh? "No, what ever could it be?" "Who in the blue hell came up with the asinine concept of the stake through the heart thing to begin with. I mean in relation specifically to vampires. I've asked every single reliable source I know, and even they don't know. But think a moment, a wooden stake through Anybody's chest is going to kill them." Nick's tone shifted between amusement, sarcasm and exasperation. This had been a pet peeve of his for decades, though he rarely voiced it. Scythe chuckled softly with a shake of her head, "Indeed it would. Perhaps it has something to do with, hmmmmm- You know, I never really thought about that one, I could look it up somewhere I'm sure. Perhaps that Van Helsing guy's writings might tell." Nick gave a soft snort along with a derisive laugh, "That twerp?" Giving another dismissive laugh, "Doubtful. I wonder if perhaps it was some ancient belief or something." He cocked his head thoughtfully, unthinkingly nibbling on his lower lip with his perfect teeth. He'd never really pondered it, but somehow this Scythe creature had awoken his feline curiosity. Scythe pursed her lips in thought "Probably some old wives tale or something, that seems to be how most things get started." She was so intent on trying to think of where this had started that she was unaware of her eyes lingering on Nick's face. The sight of Scythe's pursed lips sent an odd jolt through Nick and he found himself wondering what they might taste like. He shook his head and blinked, then a slow smile formed, as her words cut through his own personal thoughts, "Then maybe those old wives should endeavor to experience their tale, hmm?" He found himself chuckling at the thought. "Honestly though, I think that the true answer to that one question shall be my hobby for the next hundred years or so." Scythe laughed. "Indeed a good hobby. It might be one of those questions that never gets answered...I hope not though, I do so hate those things." She took a drink from her glass and shook her head "So tell me, what does one do for amusements in these parts? Aside from balls and parties, that is." If she was going to be here for a week she might as well get an understanding of the region. At least that was what she told herself. Nick settled back in his chair, regarding Scythe thoughtfully. "Well I suppose that all depends on who you are. For most around here there is business to attend to and of course the never-ending game of politics which is always invigorating. Some have their private amusements, most of which to me are fairly tame, but it keeps them amused I suppose. If you mean me specifically, that's a different sort of game altogether." His tone held a trace of his darker nature. He wasn't about to go into his personal forms of amusements with her. The last time he'd done that with a woman who seemed to match his tastes he'd ended up with a figurative stake through his heart. Scythe raised her eyebrow, "Hmmm, well, say from what you know of me thus far what is there to amuse me in these parts? Of course you're more than welcome to share yours." She offered him a dark gleaming smile. "You my dear, from what I've gathered, shall be bored to tears." He replied, a slight smirk on his lips. "As for sharing, perhaps there might be something I could find that could amuse someone of your tastes." His eyes glittered as he took a sip of brandy. A slow smile crossed her lips, a smile that reached her eyes, making them glow for a moment like a fresh trickle of blood. "It sounds perfectly intriguing." "It could indeed be, yes." He studied her eyes for a moment before flicking a glance at her book. The way her eyes light up... He let the thought trail off, unwilling to finish it. His own eyes glinted with both speculation and approval. Her eyes followed his for a moment. "But perhaps another night, I must see to lodging for my time here. If you could perhaps give me the name of a good inn..." She let the rest of the sentence hang there. What was she hoping for anyway? Her business was as completed as it could be for the moment, so why the urge to linger? A thoughtful look formed as he looked back at her, his eyes sweeping up and down, assessing every inch of her. "There are several," he spoke with the deliberate slowness of one who is thinking and speaking at the same time. And they tend to harbor hunters and the like. "However seeing as we have this deal in place, wouldn't it make more sense for you to stay here?" He arched a brow at her, his eyes flashing a challenge, "Provided of course you can keep a civil tongue with my servants that is." That way if you manage to forget your manners or annoy me I won't have to drag you back through town to tear you apart. Scythe licked a tooth in thought. "Hmm, that is a most gracious offer on your behalf. My thanks. And I shall abide by your wishes as this is your house." She kept her voice steady and polite, never showing the excitement that surged through her at his offer and the subtle challenge. "This is a good thing. Oh, and of course you understand that if I am woken before dusk I'm quite apt to rip your heart out of your chest and shove it up your ass? I do tend to wake up a tad bit grouchy you understand." For her sake, she'd better to be able to take a hint, he thought. The last thing I want is for the rest of her family to descend with stakes and suntan oil. He held no illusions on vengeful families, coming from one himself. Of course his turned more often than not on themselves, however vengeance is still vengeance. She gave him an innocent smile. "Of course, I would never do that." the tone of her voice however was anything but innocent. "No, of course you wouldn't. You are a lady after all." Though his tone was bland his eyes glittered with an unspoken warning that despite their conversational tone he was deadly serious in his warning to her about attempting to wake him early. "Of course." Scythe grinned, then catching the glitter in his eyes, let the grin fade and nodded, "In all seriousness though, I wouldn't." She did her best to ignore the curious heat that seemed to race through her body at the dangerous look in his eyes. This is just business, she told herself firmly, nothing more. "This is a good thing Scythe." he intoned solemnly, inside though he was smiling that she so readily picked up on danger, "Well then I see no problems." With the ground rules in place both of them relaxed a bit, and the conversation drifted along in an amicable fashion. Glasses got refilled a few times, and Nick found himself laughing far more then he could recall doing recently. Scythe was amusing and sharp. She could give almost as good as she got. Scythe too found the conversation a delight. In fact she couldn't ever recall sitting and talking with any man that could match her wit for wit and in a few cases out maneuver her. Even her own family weren't as clever or amusing to talk with. Nick wasn't consciously trying to charm Scythe, or even flirt with her. He did find himself fascinated though, almost drawn to her. At first her taste in wine and her intriguing notes had reminded him of Rave. Rave had been a rare beauty he'd known years before, known and thought he'd loved. He'd even gone as far as to propose to her. When his proposal was thrown back in his face he'd been furious, both with Rave and himself. From that day on he'd held himself aloof from the dangers of emotional entanglements. Oh he'd had a fling or two, but nothing lasting and nothing deep. Besides, the women in this town were silly, vapid things, far better suited to a fling and perhaps a nibble then anything else. Nick was content to be at the top of the food chain. As for Scythe, she'd never encountered a mind like Nick's. Razor sharp and quick as lightning. His laugh made her tingle all over. She found herself fascinated by his eyes, by the way he moved. His opinions and perceptions were both deliciously dark and brilliantly insightful. She forgot this was about business, her mission drifting to the back of her mind, as she delightedly sought to match wits with Nick. A lull in the conversation and he rose to his feet, flicking a glance at the windows, knowing without having to see that dawn approached. "It always creeps so silently." He gave a barely audible sigh before looking back at Scythe and offering her a hand, "If you will allow me, I will show you to your room. It would be unfair to wake poor Phillip at this hour." The offer was accompanied by a slight smile. For a fleeting instant he actually regretted what he was, what he'd been turned into. He could have managed to stay up longer perhaps, but daylight irritated him and when irritated he was less than good company. Scythe nodded with a smile and rose gracefully, her book disappearing as she did, "That sounds like a good idea, lead away." A small lie, for she could have continued on talking with him for hours yet, but she too saw the pale hint of dawn and knew that she would lose his company. Once the conversation slowed though she felt exhaustion setting in, so maybe seeking her bed was a practical idea after all. He took her hand and led her from the room, up the curving staircase and then around a series of halls, stopping finally at one door, which he gracefully pushed open for her, ushering her in. The room was not overly feminine, nor masculine, but rather a classic blend of both, with a magnificent canopied mahogany bed the centerpiece. "I trust this will suit you? It's out of the way enough so that the early hour sounds won't be too much of a disturbance." He gave a soft chuckle, his eyes dancing, unable to resist a bit of teasing, "I'd offer you a bed of nails, but sadly those are located in other areas and there is not time to get you properly settled in them." Scythe made an effort to not gape at the magnificence of the room being offered, and gave a dark chuckle at the teasing. "This will suit me just fine, many thanks. Indeed, well I might have to investigate said nails at a later date. But if you'll excuse me, I do feel tired." She covered a yawn with the back of her hand then gave a full body stretch, the gown straining against the full curve of her breasts. She hadn't realized till just that moment how much tension she'd had, and the stretch felt wonderful. His eyes drank in the grace of Scythe's stretching, pushing aside the flash of hunger that rose. With a dark smile he placed a single gallant kiss on her hand, a kiss that held his trade-mark shadow, death, fire tingle to it; a tingle born of his very nature and energies; before releasing her hand and stepping back with a slight bow, "Rest well m'lady and I shall see you in the eve." He made himself turn to leave, then paused and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Oh and Scythe, don't try and get at those books while I'm sleeping. I would consider that cheating and render our deal null and void." He gave her a devious grin, his eyes glittering in the dim light, before he left, pulling her door shut behind him. It took him little time to reach his own room. Still thinking over the night's events, he undressed and slipped into bed, the silk sheets a poor substitute for the softness of Scythe's hand, an acknowledgment he made to himself before sleep claimed him. Scythe shivered softly at the tingle before half smiling, half-frowning at the door. "Thought never crossed my mind, damn I'm slipping." She rubbed her hand and turned her attention to the elegant room, and the tempting bed. As she undressed and slid between the covers she found herself wondering what that kiss would feel like anywhere else on her body and how he did it. Those thoughts chased each other around her mind until she drifted off, unaware of the smile on her face.