[Fic] "Weregild," part 16 -- Inception/Anita Blake
Part sixteen, wherein I continue to fail in my mission of getting Anita and Richard onscreen. Next chapter for sure, though! (1,650 words)
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 16
---------------------------------------------
Arthur let Ariadne lead him to the back entrance of the Circus of the Damned. Her hand was cool in his fingers, and her face, bare of makeup, was very pale. She hadn't fed this evening.
There was no knob, keyhole, or visible hinges on the outside of the door: an interesting security measure. For those already inside the building, it would buy a handful of seconds while violent intruders broke down the door, and it might force nonviolent intruders to seek another entrance entirely. But if people were fleeing here in search of refuge... Well. The featureless door spoke of a fortress mentality where the people who mattered would of course already be within, and to hell with anyone left beyond the pale.
It was a typical attitude among older vampires.
Ariadne raised her left hand and knocked. The door swung inward immediately, revealing Asher and a short blond man with a wide grin whose prickling energy marked him as a lycanthrope of some type. Most likely a wolf, given that this was Jean-Claude's stronghold and wolves were his animal to call.
"Ariadne," Asher said, walking forward so smoothly he seemed to glide. It wasn't a mind trick, the way it would have been for most vampires. He was just that graceful. He stopped well inside Ariadne's personal space -- by extent, too close to Arthur for comfort -- and reached forward to touch her chin.
"Asher," Ariadne said in a respectful tone, tilting her head sideways to expose the side of her throat. Asher's hand slid down over her pulse in an abbreviated version of a typical vampire greeting, then fell elegantly to his side.
"What, no hello for me?" the lycanthrope said in a gratingly flippant tone.
"No," Ariadne said, all respect dropping away like a discarded mask. "This is Arthur," -- she raised his hand by way of identification -- "and behind us is Dominick Cobb. Arthur, this is Jason Schuyler, Jean-Claude's pomme de sang. Ignore him."
"Don't listen to her, I'm wonderful company," Jason said, bouncing slightly on his toes, which destroyed any dignity his tailored black trousers and dark blue shirt might otherwise have lent him. Of course, considering the shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, that dignity would have been in rather short supply whatever his behavior. He kept one hand pressed against the door, holding it open. He must be somewhat more competent than he seemed, but Arthur suspected Ariadne's advice to ignore him was sound.
Arthur nodded fractionally in Jason's general direction, then returned his attention to Asher. "Thank you for arranging this meeting. Dom and I are in your debt."
Asher looked politely blank, the ruined half of his face concealed behind the curtain of his long blond hair. "So you are. Let us hope your information will settle the account."
"It will," Dom said, moving forward to stand at Arthur's right. "Enough posturing. Let's go inside before anyone gets curious about why we're hanging around a private door."
"As you wish," Asher said. He stepped back and caught the edge of the door with one hand. "Jason, inform Jean-Claude we are coming."
The werewolf nodded, a serious expression flashing across his face for a moment before the grin reappeared. "You got it," he said, and vanished into the dimly lit interior of the building.
Dom followed, though at a slower pace. "It's not in any of our interests to keep Jean-Claude waiting," he said over his shoulder. "Besides, we were promised dinner and I didn't get any lunch today."
"You had lunch. It's breakfast you missed," Arthur said, not bothering to keep his amusement out of his voice or off his face. "If you'd get up at reasonable hours, you might actually make it to a motel breakfast before they clear everything away." He glanced at Ariadne from the corner of his eye and saw her smile.
"Come inside," she said, and led him into the little entry room, which was lit by a single bare, incandescent light bulb. The far wall was blank concrete, with a few boxes and crates of indeterminate age and purpose stacked against it. The left and right walls each held a single door, equipped with normal knobs and deadbolts. The door to the right was soundproofed, but imperfectly; Arthur could hear the muddled roar of music, voices, and the mechanical working of carnival games that made up the public section of the Circus of the Damned. The door in the left wall presumably led downward to Jean-Claude's home and place of power.
Asher let the outer door swing shut and moved toward the left hand door. "Welcome to the Circus of the Damned," he said. "Forgive me for not offering you a tour of the public spectacle." He turned the knob -- this inner door was unlocked, in an interesting contrast to the blank defense of the outer door -- and pulled it open, revealing a long staircase, more than twice as wide as what a person would expect leading to a normal storage cellar. An electrical wire ran through the upper corner of the doorway, powering more naked bulbs: one at the top of the staircase, one at the turn of the landing, and presumably more further down.
Dom brushed past Asher and clomped down the stairs with blunt determination. Arthur let go of Ariadne's hand and followed, not willing to let Dom get around the turn and out of his sight. This, of course, meant leaving two master vampires at his back, but Asher was honorable and Arthur doubted Ariadne would resort to a physical attack in this setting.
He hurried down the steps, not bothering to be silent; there was no need for the element of surprise tonight. Dom was standing at the base of the staircase, staring at a closed and locked door as if it had personally offended him. "There are at least a dozen people in there," Dom said without bothering to turn. "That's a lot of people for a peaceful meeting."
"If you have no hostile intent, you will have no need to worry," Asher said as he and Ariadne joined Dom and Arthur at the base of the stairs. "And on that note, Arthur, I will need your weapons before I open the door."
Arthur sighed. He hadn't expected to get into Jean-Claude's presence while carrying a gun, especially not after he'd drawn on Asher at the strip club, but he had hoped. And it was often best to show up armed even if he knew he wouldn't stay that way -- it was a way to remind vampires that he should be taken seriously, not dismissed as a faceless potential meal.
"You can have my gun on the understanding that it will remain untouched and I'll get it back as soon as Jean-Claude and I aren't in the same room," he said, unbuttoning his jacket and drawing his Glock from the inside-the-waistband holster. (It was technically concealed carry, but vampires were vanishingly unlikely to report him to the police, and he hadn't bothered to stop the gun from printing, so in practice it was more of a polite fiction -- "I won't shove my gun in your face" -- than actual concealment.)
Asher motioned Ariadne to take the gun. She stepped up to Arthur's side and took the Glock from his hand, her cool fingers brushing briefly against his skin. Her own hands looked ridiculously small against the magazine.
Arthur knew better than to assume small meant weak.
"I will also need any other weapons you are carrying," Asher said. "If you refuse to cooperate, I can, of course, search you by force."
"No," Arthur said.
Asher went still for a long moment. Dom tensed at Arthur's side.
"You can't be disarmed; your powers are inherent," Arthur said into the silence. "The same goes for all vampires and lycanthropes. Furthermore, if Ms. Blake is present, I highly doubt Jean-Claude would require her to surrender her gun and any other weapons she might choose to carry. I am neither wearing nor carrying any symbols of faith and I've given you my gun. Unless you mean to suggest that a simple human is a threat to the Master of St. Louis while armed only with a pair of knives..." He let the implications trail off.
Asher snarled. Dom placed a heavy hand on Arthur's shoulder, stilling any instinctive reach for his hidden knives. Behind Asher, Ariadne seemed to fade into the wall.
"You are not any sort of simple," Asher said, his composure snapping eerily back into place. "Do not insult me by pretending otherwise, necromancer."
"Animator," Arthur corrected serenely. "I wouldn't dream of claiming Ms. Blake's breadth or depth of power. I'm quite happy to restrict myself to zombies, and them only one at a time."
"Past a certain point, any level of control over the dead is too much," Asher said, his eyes flicking toward the locked door. "Nonetheless, I take your points. If you swear on your soul, your power, and your hope of vengeance, that you are only carrying knives, I will let you keep them."
"I so swear," Arthur said.
Dom clapped him on the shoulder and smiled insincerely at Asher. "Great! And now that the rigmarole is out of the way, can we get on with the main event? Or do you have another set of hoops for us to jump through?"
Asher smiled thinly. "I do not. Jean-Claude, however, is his own master." He drew a ring of keys from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, first the knob, then the two deadbolts. "After you," he said with a sweep of his hand, and let the brilliant, flickering light of a hundred candles spill through the open door.
Dom strode through immediately.
Arthur held out his left hand to Ariadne. "Shall we?"
She glanced at Asher as if for permission, then shifted his gun to her other side and slipped her fingers into his grasp. They walked through the doorway together.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Sixteen
continue to part 17
back to part 15
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
I think I was too obscure in that final bit. If you are confused about what Arthur is implying when he talks about Anita's power, or why Asher decides to let him keep his knives, please tell me and I will see if I can work more of the explanation into the text.
Anyway. Dreamwidth poll for quick responses!
View poll: Weregild, part 16
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)
---------------------------------------------
Weregild, part 16
---------------------------------------------
Arthur let Ariadne lead him to the back entrance of the Circus of the Damned. Her hand was cool in his fingers, and her face, bare of makeup, was very pale. She hadn't fed this evening.
There was no knob, keyhole, or visible hinges on the outside of the door: an interesting security measure. For those already inside the building, it would buy a handful of seconds while violent intruders broke down the door, and it might force nonviolent intruders to seek another entrance entirely. But if people were fleeing here in search of refuge... Well. The featureless door spoke of a fortress mentality where the people who mattered would of course already be within, and to hell with anyone left beyond the pale.
It was a typical attitude among older vampires.
Ariadne raised her left hand and knocked. The door swung inward immediately, revealing Asher and a short blond man with a wide grin whose prickling energy marked him as a lycanthrope of some type. Most likely a wolf, given that this was Jean-Claude's stronghold and wolves were his animal to call.
"Ariadne," Asher said, walking forward so smoothly he seemed to glide. It wasn't a mind trick, the way it would have been for most vampires. He was just that graceful. He stopped well inside Ariadne's personal space -- by extent, too close to Arthur for comfort -- and reached forward to touch her chin.
"Asher," Ariadne said in a respectful tone, tilting her head sideways to expose the side of her throat. Asher's hand slid down over her pulse in an abbreviated version of a typical vampire greeting, then fell elegantly to his side.
"What, no hello for me?" the lycanthrope said in a gratingly flippant tone.
"No," Ariadne said, all respect dropping away like a discarded mask. "This is Arthur," -- she raised his hand by way of identification -- "and behind us is Dominick Cobb. Arthur, this is Jason Schuyler, Jean-Claude's pomme de sang. Ignore him."
"Don't listen to her, I'm wonderful company," Jason said, bouncing slightly on his toes, which destroyed any dignity his tailored black trousers and dark blue shirt might otherwise have lent him. Of course, considering the shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, that dignity would have been in rather short supply whatever his behavior. He kept one hand pressed against the door, holding it open. He must be somewhat more competent than he seemed, but Arthur suspected Ariadne's advice to ignore him was sound.
Arthur nodded fractionally in Jason's general direction, then returned his attention to Asher. "Thank you for arranging this meeting. Dom and I are in your debt."
Asher looked politely blank, the ruined half of his face concealed behind the curtain of his long blond hair. "So you are. Let us hope your information will settle the account."
"It will," Dom said, moving forward to stand at Arthur's right. "Enough posturing. Let's go inside before anyone gets curious about why we're hanging around a private door."
"As you wish," Asher said. He stepped back and caught the edge of the door with one hand. "Jason, inform Jean-Claude we are coming."
The werewolf nodded, a serious expression flashing across his face for a moment before the grin reappeared. "You got it," he said, and vanished into the dimly lit interior of the building.
Dom followed, though at a slower pace. "It's not in any of our interests to keep Jean-Claude waiting," he said over his shoulder. "Besides, we were promised dinner and I didn't get any lunch today."
"You had lunch. It's breakfast you missed," Arthur said, not bothering to keep his amusement out of his voice or off his face. "If you'd get up at reasonable hours, you might actually make it to a motel breakfast before they clear everything away." He glanced at Ariadne from the corner of his eye and saw her smile.
"Come inside," she said, and led him into the little entry room, which was lit by a single bare, incandescent light bulb. The far wall was blank concrete, with a few boxes and crates of indeterminate age and purpose stacked against it. The left and right walls each held a single door, equipped with normal knobs and deadbolts. The door to the right was soundproofed, but imperfectly; Arthur could hear the muddled roar of music, voices, and the mechanical working of carnival games that made up the public section of the Circus of the Damned. The door in the left wall presumably led downward to Jean-Claude's home and place of power.
Asher let the outer door swing shut and moved toward the left hand door. "Welcome to the Circus of the Damned," he said. "Forgive me for not offering you a tour of the public spectacle." He turned the knob -- this inner door was unlocked, in an interesting contrast to the blank defense of the outer door -- and pulled it open, revealing a long staircase, more than twice as wide as what a person would expect leading to a normal storage cellar. An electrical wire ran through the upper corner of the doorway, powering more naked bulbs: one at the top of the staircase, one at the turn of the landing, and presumably more further down.
Dom brushed past Asher and clomped down the stairs with blunt determination. Arthur let go of Ariadne's hand and followed, not willing to let Dom get around the turn and out of his sight. This, of course, meant leaving two master vampires at his back, but Asher was honorable and Arthur doubted Ariadne would resort to a physical attack in this setting.
He hurried down the steps, not bothering to be silent; there was no need for the element of surprise tonight. Dom was standing at the base of the staircase, staring at a closed and locked door as if it had personally offended him. "There are at least a dozen people in there," Dom said without bothering to turn. "That's a lot of people for a peaceful meeting."
"If you have no hostile intent, you will have no need to worry," Asher said as he and Ariadne joined Dom and Arthur at the base of the stairs. "And on that note, Arthur, I will need your weapons before I open the door."
Arthur sighed. He hadn't expected to get into Jean-Claude's presence while carrying a gun, especially not after he'd drawn on Asher at the strip club, but he had hoped. And it was often best to show up armed even if he knew he wouldn't stay that way -- it was a way to remind vampires that he should be taken seriously, not dismissed as a faceless potential meal.
"You can have my gun on the understanding that it will remain untouched and I'll get it back as soon as Jean-Claude and I aren't in the same room," he said, unbuttoning his jacket and drawing his Glock from the inside-the-waistband holster. (It was technically concealed carry, but vampires were vanishingly unlikely to report him to the police, and he hadn't bothered to stop the gun from printing, so in practice it was more of a polite fiction -- "I won't shove my gun in your face" -- than actual concealment.)
Asher motioned Ariadne to take the gun. She stepped up to Arthur's side and took the Glock from his hand, her cool fingers brushing briefly against his skin. Her own hands looked ridiculously small against the magazine.
Arthur knew better than to assume small meant weak.
"I will also need any other weapons you are carrying," Asher said. "If you refuse to cooperate, I can, of course, search you by force."
"No," Arthur said.
Asher went still for a long moment. Dom tensed at Arthur's side.
"You can't be disarmed; your powers are inherent," Arthur said into the silence. "The same goes for all vampires and lycanthropes. Furthermore, if Ms. Blake is present, I highly doubt Jean-Claude would require her to surrender her gun and any other weapons she might choose to carry. I am neither wearing nor carrying any symbols of faith and I've given you my gun. Unless you mean to suggest that a simple human is a threat to the Master of St. Louis while armed only with a pair of knives..." He let the implications trail off.
Asher snarled. Dom placed a heavy hand on Arthur's shoulder, stilling any instinctive reach for his hidden knives. Behind Asher, Ariadne seemed to fade into the wall.
"You are not any sort of simple," Asher said, his composure snapping eerily back into place. "Do not insult me by pretending otherwise, necromancer."
"Animator," Arthur corrected serenely. "I wouldn't dream of claiming Ms. Blake's breadth or depth of power. I'm quite happy to restrict myself to zombies, and them only one at a time."
"Past a certain point, any level of control over the dead is too much," Asher said, his eyes flicking toward the locked door. "Nonetheless, I take your points. If you swear on your soul, your power, and your hope of vengeance, that you are only carrying knives, I will let you keep them."
"I so swear," Arthur said.
Dom clapped him on the shoulder and smiled insincerely at Asher. "Great! And now that the rigmarole is out of the way, can we get on with the main event? Or do you have another set of hoops for us to jump through?"
Asher smiled thinly. "I do not. Jean-Claude, however, is his own master." He drew a ring of keys from his trouser pocket and unlocked the door, first the knob, then the two deadbolts. "After you," he said with a sweep of his hand, and let the brilliant, flickering light of a hundred candles spill through the open door.
Dom strode through immediately.
Arthur held out his left hand to Ariadne. "Shall we?"
She glanced at Asher as if for permission, then shifted his gun to her other side and slipped her fingers into his grasp. They walked through the doorway together.
---------------------------------------------
End Part Sixteen
continue to part 17
back to part 15
read the final version on AO3 (Trust me, you want to read the final version. The journal version is a beta draft, with all the errors that implies.)
---------------------------------------------
I think I was too obscure in that final bit. If you are confused about what Arthur is implying when he talks about Anita's power, or why Asher decides to let him keep his knives, please tell me and I will see if I can work more of the explanation into the text.
Anyway. Dreamwidth poll for quick responses!
View poll: Weregild, part 16
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)