Feiruza

[Lucind Varhetel]

Still showing that mysterious, thin smile, the Siren nodded once more, slowly, saying, Alright then.

It was obvious that the information about her special "store" evoked interest in the monk, the hope to find something. Lucind stepped back, making an offering gesture towards Tenkai to follow her.
"My business is not the only the only way we're going to maintain the ship." This piece of information only seemed to make sense when Lucind was willing to trade books or take prices that weren't based on money per se. "My friend Tagis, the actual captain, has gained some reputation in the trading of rare spices and fabrics. A clear advantage for me," she chuckled," as it gives me access to wonderous places, contact to all kind of persons all around this planet." In front of her inner eye, the woman saw photos of foreign ports, buildings of strange architecture - as well as images of far away coasts she had already visited herself; phrases in languages never heard hushed through her head, and the Siren's eyes brushed Maximos for a second, knowing he would share the excitement of the possibility of hunting books across all of Gaia's oceans.

Her hand pointed to the right, the ship's bow. Behind one of the double doors people where talking, loud enough that the two men would hear it too. "There we store tools and instruments we need to keep the ship in shape. Prishazan, our navigator, has his room next to the first storage, and from there you have access to the main storage down in the hull." Later on, she would lead Maximos into those rooms that weren't meant to be seen by the public, that is, by guests. It was a question of etiquette and privacy, and Lucind expected the monk to understand he wouldn't see every corner of her new "house".

"I suggest I directly lead the way to the place both of you wish to see most." Her eyes twinkled, the corners of her mouth smoothened for a moment, before hints of slyness and ocean deep myth reclaimed her face, when her right was raised and, with the palm upwards, pointed towards a door in the opposite direction - or more like, towards a short staircase directly lying next the double doors behind which the living room was. But walking over, Maximos and Tenkai would soon see the door Lucind headed for: It was obviously build in later on, a part of the renovation, its wood just as strong and sturdy as the walls enclosing it; but it came from a different tree, showing a distinct tint of red as if someone had failed to remove blood and instead smeared a fine film all over this piece of entrance with its delicately carved corners. There was a door knob, made of brass. Once Lucind had walked down - "Mind your steps, these stairs are steep." - her hand found said knob, a second later the door slid open quietly. ...almost too easily.

The Siren didn't know about Tenkai's powers, if his senses were heightened beyond a human's level, but Maximos would see.
Hadn't he just had the image of the Feiruza being alive? Now he got something that could corroborate his thought. When Lu's right touched the door knob, magic trails shot out of the wood to wash all over the door and over the woman's fingers. For normal eyes it was hard to tell at all that something was going on; maybe someone else would notice the slightest breeze moving between them - but it could've been the usual, ceaseless wind on deck. For Maximos, however, those threads of wind wore a shade of silver gray and the aura of elemental crafts. Not hostile. But ancient and authoritarian. As soon as the magic touch had appeared, it vanished back to...who knew were it came from. But after another second or two, the door was just what it was and all miraculous traces gone.

Lucind reached inside and around, and two lamps on the ceiling dimly lit a small area right behind the entrance, just enough not to trip over the threshold and fall down three more steps; the monk and the Shadow would be able to make out part of a chest of drawers to the right of the stairs and a slim shelf to the left. Ahead, there was something large, several bulky silhouettes towering in the thick darkness. It was cool down there, definitely not the place to wear t-shirt and shorts, and the usual smell of a ship mixed with that of paper, ink, age, knowledge and mysteries.

"Please, wait here a second," she asked and walked farther into the room, until only her boots were heard as soft thuds. Then, metal clicking against metal. The dim lights went out. "Don't worry, everything's alright," came the woman's voice through the dark from the other end of the room. She walked back slowly, taking each step carefully - and behind her, starting at the back most wall, a strange bluish-green glow began to illuminate the book store: coming from many lanterns, it was first weak, but bit by bit it grew and bathed its surrounding in eerie light, as if whatever was inside was waking up. In this way, one row of lamps after another came to life until the blackness around Lucind, now standing in front of the men, was lifted and the whole room was filled with cool shades of ocean blue.

Now, Maximos and Tenkai would see that the book store was around eight meters deep, at least ten meters wide; it was higher than the floors above, and a smaller room, separated from the rest, nuzzled against the hull's outer wall to the men's right. Lucind in front of them leaned against one of two broad double shelves - the undefined silhouettes from before -, which went up to to ceiling; another shelf ran along the wall of the separate room; the lower right corner to which the chest of drawers belonged furthermore held a desk with a notebook resting on it, along with notepads, pencils, samples of parchment, paper and leather and a few books. To the men's left, there was a skillfully crafted shelf hanging from the ceiling - both of them had to duck if they wanted to pass it; another shelf behind the hanging one, at the left hand wall, next to it a large desk and a few chairs.


The underwater light coming from the many honey melon sized ceiling lamps was intense, yet not strong enough to reveal every little corner of the room.
But for a longer moment, Lucind gave both men the chance to take in what they saw from their place at the staircase, while she loosely crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Welcome to my new store..."

The Siren's expression was less mischievously, but it was obvious she was enjoying this to the fullest - she was in her element, in every sense of meaning.  

[Maximos]

Now Maximos, as often said, was always a gentleman. And while this shop, and renovated ship were new to him...he was at the same time closer to it than Tenkai would be. As Lucind said to Fletcher the Rude Teapot, Maximos was practically crew. As such, when Lucind stepped forward, Maximos stepped a bit to side and made a very small bow and gestured for Tenkai to follow.

Max knew, he was going to be spending a lot of time here. It was only proper, the monk get the better view and the brunt of the tour.

"My business is not the only the only way we're going to maintain the ship."

Maximos grinned a grin that was probably too wide and too devilish for the moment, but that fit the thoughts running through his head perfectly. Max might have chuckled, but did not, likely because he thought better of it.

"My friend Tagis, the actual captain, has gained some reputation in the trading of rare spices and fabrics. A clear advantage for me,"

Lu chuckled. And Max took the opportunity to chuckle a bit himself.

"As it gives me access to wonderous places, contact to all kind of persons all around this planet."

And a chance to steal precious booty, hang a black flag, and terrorize the worlds navies.

But of course, Max did not say that, he just grinned, and lift a hand to soft pat his jackets breast pocket, as if quelling something stirring within. Even though nothing magical or otherwise did infact stir within.

His eyes met hers for a moment. He imagined an arm around her waist as he swung from high ropes, he saw himself fighting on masts, cutting dramatically through sails. He saw himself swashing buckles, firing cannons, dodging explosions, battling epically sized tentacled beasts. And then as if none of these actions bore repercussions, he imagined calm evenings to follow days of adventuring in which he read rare books, studied ancient cultures, and perhaps dined at a far off restaurant or two.

Just Lucind's few words had him practically swooning. Ahh, a clear advantage indeed. She was gesturing to something else. Books? Swords?

"There we store tools and instruments we need to keep the ship in shape."

...mops? The imagery centered the Shadow, anchoring his imagination momentarily back on Gaia.

"Prishazan, our navigator, has his room next to the first storage, and from there you have access to the main storage down in the hull."

Boxes. Perhaps swash buckling box--No. No not quite. Max thought of Prishazan the monk, of his serious nature. Of the task that waited for them tomorrow, and his grin settled into a calm smile. High sea adventure could wait. He looked at Tenkai, curious of the monks reaction, and then back to Lucind.

"I suggest I directly lead the way to the place both of you wish to see most."

She said, her eyes twinkled, the corners of her mouth smoothened for a moment, it was a deeply mysterious look. The sort that would have made shadows jealous. Max smirked, meeting it, and then followed her hand to the staircase. He remembered that, but not the door. The door was new, and bright in contrast to the room as a whole. The red was not particularly shocking, but against the surrounding wood grain it seemed to pop out, just as the brass of the knob seemed to cut itself from the door.

Once Lucind had walked down, with practiced ease. Max followed, remembering only that he nearly tripped here once, and braced himself by placing a hand on either side of the hall, just in case. He was waiting for a screech, perhaps a creak of wood or metal. But he found nothing. The door slid open as if it was not there. Silently, to silent to be natural. He cocked his right eye.

Then he saw it. A spiderweb of trails detailing lines from the knob out, over the door, and over Lucind's fingers. Then there was that wind, even the magic eye wind is normally invisible, but this haunting air drew silver threads in its wake. It spoke of older, safer, elemental magics. Perhaps something to keep the books safe down below. Perhaps something to keep out intruders. He would make a note to ask about it later, because just as suddenly and smoothly as wind blows it was already gone.

Lucind was turning on lights, but Maximos was already squinting, his eyes peering through darkness as one might peer through light. It didnt avail him much, save for allowing him to make out the stairs, the drawers, and a few books in the distance. More magics may have allowed him to see more, but that would ruin the presentation, woudnt it? So he didnt. He simply tugged the edges of his jacket, suddenly glad he had worn it.

"Please, wait here a second,"

Lu asked, Maximos nodded. And then, in the silent moments as her footsteps were swallowed up, he stepped up next to Mr. Matsumoto and offered Tenkai a quiet and yet entirely warm smile. The Monk, just might see the outline of a slightly luminescent white, right cornea as the lights went off before Lucind's voice called out.

"Don't worry, everything's alright."

And Maximos' turned to away to face her. The room, was suddenly more stunningly beautiful than he imagined. The lights were simply spectacular, they looked as sunlight might look if it was filtered through ocean water. The greens, blues, and teal shades all added a fantastic whimsical, almost surreal feel to the place. It made one truly feel they were standing in a magical library, where anything might happen.

Max found himself drawn to one of the melon sized lamps, placing a hand on one of the hanging shelves, as he stepped under it. The light source having caught his attention first, seemingly over the library. And then, slowly, his head turned away from the dazzling light to the sheer number of volumes present. Some of them had ominous titles, that spoke of age and magics unknown. Others had ominous designs. A book, for instance, which seemed to have teeth and not a binding most definitely hinted at something dangerous. And yet still other books he could feel, their magics wafted out like scent might waft from a bowl of potpourri, or smoldering incense.

He moved to the desk, to the far wall, several of the shelves, never stopping long at any one thing but instead walking by and running his right hand along it. His fingertips feeling out the object in question, his eye memorizing the room so he would know where to start back at later when he came through more in depth. He had a look on his face, like a child in an amusement park for the first time. Excited, and yet frozen with astonishment. Unsure where, or how to begin.

By Nocturne...

The words, an amazed Arian "My God", slipped from his lips without thought, whisping on the air, as his feet brought him back beside Lucind. She loosely crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Welcome to my new store..."

The expression on her face put a warmth in his heart. It was a sort of happiness she did not oft get to express. A comfort, a sort of pride.

My dear...you have truly out done yourself...

He said, with no small level of awe still on his tone.

...this is...

Words, were supposed to follow, but the room as a whole had stolen them. Everything from the curve of the shelves, the light, to the way the corners were still dim enough to put a shroud of mystery over the whole room. Astonishing? Amazing? Awesome? Those were just a few, and none seemed large enough. There was a sentiment here that was just ineffable, but he looked at her with a smile stretching all the way across his face and somehow believed she understood.  

[Lucind Varhetel]

The expression in Maximos' eyes.

Tenkai's exclamation.

The Siren chuckled, and the chuckle wandered through the library, hopping from one shelf to the next, bouncing off of tables, walls and wooden pillars, accompanied by a soft wind. But not only that: the light coming from those many, small lanterns flickered, hesitant first, then stronger, and...yes, it seemed as though the shades of blue and green changed along with the intensity of the room's illumination. All this bathed everybody present in an unpredictable play of twilight. On Lucind's face, streaks of darkness and wildness appeared with the staccato rythm of the flickering lamps; it could have been an optical illusion, but the monk, likely also the Shadow, would sense that not only the lanterns - or whatever was inside of them -, but the sea itself beyond reacted to the sheer presence of the Siren, her mood. Her will.

The display only lasted a moment, but its intesity carried an unspoken threat, not directed against any of the men, or anybody per se. It was the ocean's own primal force, its darkest secrets and the weight of this world's soul - personified in this woman who enjoyed herself...and what she was, the power she had. It was a freedom she had gained only a week ago. All those years before, two souls had been fighting in her, not literally, but in a way that denial and false guilt had almost destroyed everything she had.

"Why, thank you. I am glad you like what you see." Her low voice would end the phenomenon, the lanterns returned to emanate the soft greenish blue, steady light. Lucind left her place at the shelf to walk over to one of those lanterns and carefully ran a finger along the milky glass: inside, something responsed, a slim being, or tiny tentacles, leaned towards her hand. At the upper rim of the oval body of glass, a fine line showed the lamps were filled with water.
"An astounding type of sea anemones. Along Azum's west coast, especially on the belt of isles between Azum and Meshkat, these are used instead of candles or electrical light sources. Their bioilluminescence is not only eco-friendly, it's also much less harmful to my books and scrolls." Aside from this - and she didn't have to say it explicitly -, the Siren felt extremely comfortable in this atmosphere.


Lowering her hand, she turned towards the monk.
"So, Mr. Tenkai. What is it you're looking for?"  

[Maximos]

Maximos grinned. In many situations it was all he could find himself able to do.

Lucind's voice echoed, softly through the hall. A beautiful magical thing in nature. It was laced with a certain sort of pride that made the Shadow warm inside. Maximos even raised his right hand and let the sound pass through his fingers, he could feel it...its essence, its emotion. Soon it was everywhere. Lucind was not a threat, and yet Lucind was a threat. She was a threat in the same way that a lion wandering the open road is a threat, while it may not openly attack. She was free and uncaged, the ocean her home. Her will coursing through its soft waves.

"Why, thank you. I am glad you like what you see."

And he did, Maximos most certainly did. More than likely could or should be expressed in public.

However as the sensation died, his eyes followed her hand to the glass. With curiosity his right eye took on a slight glow and he saw what he had missed. Life, something with a soul lie inside the lamp. Something moved toward her touch. Slimey, round, and yet clearly the source of that beautiful soft hue. What was...

"An astounding type of sea anemones. Along Azum's west coast, especially on the belt of isles between Azum and Meshkat, these are used instead of candles or electrical light sources. Their bioilluminescence is not only eco-friendly, it's also much less harmful to my books and scrolls."

Ah ha! The books, Max had never imagined how it might protect the books. Harsh dry burning lights against ancient pages...brilliant! Not to mention it gave the entire room an almost underwater appearance. Underwater...Siren...Max smirked.

Lucind moved to Tenkai, and Maximos moved to the nearest bookshelf. His eye scanned the books for brightness. Those that shone the deepest likely held the most, be it because they had great power bound within, or were used the most, or simply gathered the most essence from being in existence the longest. He didnt even bother with the title or language, Maximos simply delicately opened the volume, leaned casually against a wall, and began reading.  

[Lucind Varhetel]

Maximos moved to the nearest bookshelf. His eye scanned the books for brightness. Those that shone the deepest likely held the most, be it because they had great power bound within, or were used the most, or simply gathered the most essence from being in existence the longest. He didn't even bother with the title or language, Maximos simply delicately opened the volume, leaned casually against a wall, and began reading.

And he would detect many volumes whose 'aura' promised interesting, ancient even, partly magical or dubious contents (or all of those). But if he strained his senses a little more, the Shadow would notice an arrangement of books - it had to be books - that downright pulsated with the message, 'Stop! Handle with caution!' or plainly: 'Dangerous.' And only a few of those objects actually emanated traces of magic...

But this special collection wasn't behind the shelf Max was currently standing in front of; and not behind the one behind the first; not the behind the third. Then, another shelf with only single rows of books, propped against a wall - and behind this wall, the ominous objects were hidden. The three of them had seen the door leading to that room when they had entered the library.


Meanwhile, Lucind quietly listened to the monk's request. She nodded, let her eyes seemingly wander over the nearest rows of books.
"Hmm...alright. Just a moment, please."
She really started walking along the shelf, placing one careful step after another, but it was obvious the Siren didn't search, didn't read the backs of the volumes. But she wasn't using magic either: Only the faintest traces of spiritual activity were noticable when the dark haired woman seeked an active connection to the Sirens' own mental plane.

"Most people don't even know Van Hellsing was a doctor...", she mumbled, before turning around to firmly look at Tenkai.

"What do his writings, that is, their acquisition mean to you?"

This wasn't a random question, the monk would be able to tell that much, and his answer would be crucial for any further information Lucind might be able, no, willing to give.  

[Maximos]

A word, it was the most he could manage. Maybe two, perhaps three. Sometimes his eyes scanned over and read a sentence, but the sentence never made it from his eyes to his brain without becoming little more than a meaningless assortment of words. He wanted to concentrate, but he couldnt.

That light, it was in every way like that alarm clock that does not wake you, but rather by being the single blaring light across the room keeps you from ever falling asleep.

It was there, and while Maximos knew in every way that he should be pretending that it was not, it was. It said Danger. It said, Warning. And in that same language, louder than anything else it said, Come.

Maximos shut the book in his hands. He had been reading it for several seconds, enough time to have read a few chapters, but the Shadow did not even know the books name. The volume was placed under his left arm, and Maximos made his way forward. It was not in the rack he was currently standing in front of. Not behind that one, or the next, or the next. Then, another shelf with only a single row of books but it wasnt there either. Propped against wall...Maximos' right eye flared momentarily, a plume of white whipping and then settling into a fierce round glow.

It was behind the wall.

Soft shadows stirred as Maximos right hand rose, as if instinctively, perhaps even accidentally he orchestrated them with his gesture. The gloved and bandaged arm reached past single row of books. His hand moved like a single sliver of black and then as it touched the wall, it spread. His fingers stretched outwards like the encroaching arms of an octopus. Tendrils of black peeked just barely beyond their natural light-limited lengths. He could feel it, he could taste it. His face split, grinning like a pale blue-green knifes edge.

Hello there...

Said Maximos, something of a chuckle in his tone. His hand pulsed.

...Whats this then?  

[Lucind Varhetel]

She grinned. Giggled ever so softly.

Yet, her expression remained composed and focussed on the monk. Never would she be so rude as to pay less than full attention to a possible customer's wishes and explanations. But, oh, the sweet freedom she had gained finally allowed her to use wonderful tricks, mental twists and techniques she hadn't dared experimenting with before. Therefore, the Siren was able to take care of Tenkai's request with all the sincerity it deserved - and give Max an idea of what he would find behind that wall.

The Shadow could feel it, he could taste it. His face split, grinning like a pale blue-green knifes edge.

Lucind smirked, giggled - but all in her mind.
Upon probing and examining the wall, Maximos would feel the ship protesting mildly, and waves of that ancient magic they had witnessed when Lucind had opened the library's door brushed over the Shadow's hand in a gently reprimand that he wouldn't be allowed to enter until given authorization.

Hello there... Whats this then?

You can hear them, can't you?

As if she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned up, standing on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear, her words would sound out in his head, though not after asking for access - she never entered someone's inner world without permission, not even the exterior level. ... Let me correct that. She would never enter a dear person's head without permission, or that of a customer...or someone useful, or... Anyway.

They're calling for you. I know. How they wish to be free... Believe me, some of them crave for lying in hands like yours.

Her voice. Almost a purr, thickened with amusement and lure.

Would you like to know what kind of precious little tomes I've got in there?

Yes, a completely rhetorical question.

I'll show you.

And he would see.



"I've read about Dr. Van Helsings works and travels ever since I was a child," said Tenkai. "I've learned much about the creatures of this world as well as different diseases by reading his studies, and oftentimes I try my hand at writing my own."

"Hmm, is that so", was all Lucind said for a moment, lifting both brows a little. It was more than obvious that the monk's answer only scratched the surface of what was his complete reason for collecting Van Hellsing's texts.

"Do code and tenets of your order stand in contradiction to your lifelong hobby? Now, if you're worried I might judge you for what you're really doing with the help of those writings, don't be - that's not my job. Of course, dubious motives might be a reason for me not to sell a book or give the location of a title. But it is taciturnity and dishonesty that definitely close the doors of my shop for a customer."

Lucind's eyes pierced his, all the while a part of her mind was keeping Maximos busy.

"What if told you I know where three original writings of Van Hellsing are? What if one was amongst them you don't own yet - and as far as I know, many of his essays and treatises only exist in a single copy after the others have been swallowed by time... What if?

What would you be willing to pay, Mr. Tenkai?

I am asking because so far I haven't found overly much passion in your words describing those texts..."



Maximos saw. And heard. And even thought to feel and smell every once in a while.

It only lasted a hand full of seconds, but they were enough for him to receive a bundle of Lu's memories, partly her own, partly borrowed; and each told a story about one of the books hidden in the secluded area.

A man sitting at a desk, dim light revealing his haggard, sickly looking face, covered in sweat, as he fervently scribbled something into a book which, flipped open, was around two feet long; three inches thick when closed. Every now and then, the man would guide the feather with which he wrote towards his chest and downwards, below the table's edge - his eyes twitched slightly whenever he did so.
Different scenes of the same man, in the same situation, followed. A full-faced woman entered, visibly scared, no, terrified. She tried to stop him from writing - but he didn't even notice her efforts, nor that she started screaming in horror the moment she touched his shoulders: Her fingers turned a dark purple, then brown, then black, withered, putrefied with unbelievable speed! Then, the process started running up her arms...
In the next scene, the man, even thinner, his eyes protruding from their sockets, he leaned back. But not to interrupt his obsessive work. He just lifted his left arm, which had been hidden behind the table's edge all the time. Now, calling it an arm was exaggerated. A blackened, half rotten stump was what he stabbed the feather into in his frenzy, mingling puss and blood in one of the many open wounds.
Somebody rushed into the room. Traces of death lay everywhere, undefined organic remnants, possibly human; another dark spot faintly reminded of a dog. The unknown person through whose eyes Max was looking pressed a cloth up against his nose and mouth, while he moved over to the desk, where the writer's corpse was hanging over the book, the face pressed onto the page. ...no, wait! His right hand - moved! The feather was gone, but the last grains of strength and will made his index finger move, writing invisible words. (But maybe the juices of decay had indeed allowed him a last statement). The strange intruder reached out for the as-good-as-dead, an amulet dangling from his wrist, but he didn't touch the manic writer. Instead, a soft green light emanated from his hand as he mumbled an incantation behind the cloth: The living dead started shaking madly, even sat up straight, before he went completely limp and fell to the floor...

Four, five more of such stories followed, not always as sinister as the first, but that didn't make them, that is, the respective book, less interesting.

There was a volume which, to innocent eyes, was nothing more than a collection of regional legends - but which confronted everyone else with his darkest secrets and crimes, the otherwise beautiful illustrations becoming alive to picture treason, betrayal, fraud, torture, murder, rape...
Another book didn't seem to have unnatural qualities per se, but had belonged to the head of a group of religious fanatics, who was revered like a god and whose every word became his zealous disciples' gospel, their life's only meaning...
Max learned of a bestiary that acidentally was turned into a medium of summoning, so that a small girl's first reading attempts killed ninety nine percent of a village's population by conjuring a pack of demon dogs...

The last story even showed a younger Lucind, her brother, another Siren and a mage or paladin. Together, they fought a generic looking book, covered in green leather and with lovely silver fittings. For the untrained eye, it didn't do anything aside from being an ordinary book. But obviously, it was giving the group a hard time taming it, directly attacking their souls. Only when Larhien had passed out and Lucind wasn't far from it, the others relaxed and the third Siren wrapped the book into a shawl...


Wonderful, aren't they?

Lucind whispered in Max's head.

And this was only a tenth of my special collection. - Many of them are dangerous beasts indeed. A challenge. Even for us.
...
Interested?

A low chuckle.

But not now, my love. Not now. Later. When we're alone:

These are to be treated with...discretion.  

[Maximos]

Was that a bite? Did this simple Feiruza wall just n** at him? Max felt a sudden rush akin to the feeling a stalking lion gets when the gazelle in its sights suddenly takes flight. Nothing worth having comes easy. The magic in this wall was old, it was powerful, could he eat it? Could it crush his arm into dust? That was the very thrill of the hunt, the very rush that put such a twisted expression on this humble shadow's face.

Maximos' fingers twitched against the wood, his wrist tightened, his arm tensed even as it began to c**k back for a strike. In just a moment all his questions would be answered.

You can hear them, can't you?

Maximos mind did not have gates, or doors, or locks. It was whirling swirling sea of madness, a thousand thousand voices echoed off of each other in an ocean of fragmented thoughts, feelings, and ideas. A tempest of chaotic insanity. Simply looking at it daunted most psychics, entering it was a threat for all but the most skilled mindreader for in tapping that madness they be swept up in the squall.

But Lucind need not have these concerns. The Siren need never ask permission. She had nothing to fear. Lucind, unlike any other soul had braved this warped sea. She had traveled its madness and reached the island of sanity at its core. For her, the path was forever clear. Her words, the soft whisper on Max's ear that he could swear he felt even while he knew he didnt, they ran a tantilizing chill up and then down his spine, and despite what notions ran through his mind, Maximos stopped. And he listened.

They're calling for you. I know. How they wish to be free... Believe me, some of them crave for lying in hands like yours.

Her voice. Almost a purr, thickened with amusement and lure. And lure was precisely what she did. Maximos knew good from bad, he knew unholy from holy, and safe from dangerous. He knew that behind that wall, anything that craved a cursed limb such as his was just as dark and twisted and dangerous. And he did not care. Like a captain steering his ship toward the haunting voice on the other side of the sharp rocks lining the shore, Maximos was hooked.

Would you like to know what kind of precious little tomes I've got in there?

It was a question which needed no answer, Maximos simply softly chuckled. Outwardly it appeared almost as if he had read something humorous.

I'll show you.

And he closed his eyes. And he would see.

Maximos saw. And heard. And even thought to feel and smell every once in a while.

It only lasted a hand full of seconds, and in that time it entered as innocent as a balloon. Soft, small, harmless and deflated, they were pulses and flashes of something foriegn and yet barely understandable. Then they inflated, swelled, Max's mind rushed over the scenes playing them back in flourshing detail. Time seemed to halt as for a moment the outside world melted away.

A man sitting at a desk, dim light revealing his haggard, sickly looking face, covered in sweat, as he fervently scribbled something into a book which, flipped open, was around two feet long; three inches thick when closed. Every now and then, the man would guide the feather with which he wrote towards his chest and downwards, below the table's edge - his eyes twitched slightly whenever he did so.

It started innocently enough, slanted into a sort of skew and yet innocent. There was a man writing, odd and yet not spectactular. And then in a heartbeat it all went wrong. A womens arms were being eaten away, words were being penned in a puss and blood ink. Maximos was apalled! And at the very same time he was starving with curiosity. Someone diffused the poor drained corpse and the only question rushing through the Shadow's mind was, What? .

What in this world or any other could be so important, or so vile, or even so very powerful as to need to be written that badly? So badly that it would devour the soul and body and mind just to achieve its purposes. As the amulet bearing figure etched closer Maximos was almost mad with the desire to see even one word of the text, one letter. Even a single character could at the very least give him a hint and soothe his burning curiosity!

And then it was gone. Four, five more of such stories followed, not always as sinister as the first, but that didn't make them, that is, the respective book, less interesting.

There was a volume which, to innocent eyes, was nothing more than a collection of regional legends - but which confronted everyone else with his darkest secrets and crimes, the otherwise beautiful illustrations becoming alive to picture treason, betrayal, fraud, torture, murder, rape...What would it show him? The Destroyers most vile acts? Or would he see the smaller more painful willful crimes against his morality? Such a thing as a conscience in text was invaluable. Simply set it for a persont to read and in a moment by their reaction, know their character. Fascinating!

Another book didn't seem to have unnatural qualities per se, but had belonged to the head of a group of religious fanatics, who was revered like a god and whose every word became his zealous disciples' gospel, their life's only meaning...Alarms fired off in Maximos' head. Would this be a clue about a new target? Or maybe the written record of an old one? Did these pages hold the secret to attaining such devotion?

Max learned of a bestiary that acidentally was turned into a medium of summoning, and immediately wanted it. Not for factual knowledge as much as it could be used to teach him experience. Experience battling things great, small, and horrible. Nostalgia from his old adventuring days momentarily washed over him.

The last story caught Max off gaurd. Was that Lucind? And her brother? He had never had the pleasure of meeting the man, but he had seen him in various flash backs to Lu's time in Azum. The others he did not recognize save perhaps for shakey connections to possible occupation based on attire. His attention was locked, and then to capitalize on the moment they were losing, and their foe was nothing more than book. Or perhaps it was something so very much more. He watched the struggle as if he were there, he could nearly feel the weight of a drained soul crushing down on him, freezing his extremities, and then it was over. He was beside himself, practically swooning with the very notion of such power.

Wonderful, aren't they?

He truly had no words to describe it.

And this was only a tenth of my special collection. - Many of them are dangerous beasts indeed. A challenge. Even for us.
...
Interested?

A low chuckle. Another slanted grin. Max did so love a challenge. Yes he did. If this was a tenth, he shuddered in delightful reverence. Delighted to have the pleasure and honor of being introduced to something so reverential.

But not now, my love. Not now. Later. When we're alone:

The memories were washing away now, not so much leaving as being filed into the recesses of his mind. Separated from himself and yet saved. His eyes were slowly opening, flooding his vision soft hues and blue green glow. Maximos' eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and the snapped open wide.

The black leather fingers of the glove covering his right hand were shredded. Five jet black talons had shredded through, and dug into wood. Maximos could seen the darkness sheening off the impossibly black metal of the Twilight Gauntlet, as the curse limb attempted to cut rivulets in the Feiruza's wall.

It appeared, the stories had woken the beast and it was hungry. Without a hestitation Max jerked his hand back, immediately chiding the limb. Black metal began to soften and melt into more liquid shadows. Black globules dripped like ropes from his right arm, as he began to turn away.

These are to be treated with...discretion.

Discretion. Yes. Lanks of black shadow wound upwards, shadows were softly instructed to repair his glove, to seep back under his sleeve. Shadows moved just slightly against the light to cover the spot where the wood and the monster had met. By the time Maximos faced Tenkai and Lucind he looked the very picture of normal.

As if he had, in mind if not body, been in the room the entire time Maximos offered the monk the slightest piece of friendly advice as he approached. He tucked the first, now almost painfully tame book under his arm and said.

I suggest that you be as forthcoming as possible my friend. The Lady Lucind has quite the amazing array of senses. Hide, or lie, and she'll know it before you do.  

[Lucind Varhetel]

"Ah..."

This was what Lucind said once Tenkai had finished revealing a part of his life's story, giving a reason to the why the Siren had asked for.
And it was the only thing she said for a longer moment.

So, a vampire slaying monk. Fine.
There were a lot of emotions. Ideals born from early pain and incomensurable suffering. Oh yes, she saw and, even more so, heard, as if his words carried a code that called forth drafts of scenes and memories in the Siren mind. It was a lot that still weighed down on the friendly man's heart.
A lot the woman could feed off of, if only she wanted to...

Her piercing gaze lost its sharpness and turned into a gentle, understanding expression, close to a soft smile. At the same time, however, a certain spark died in her eyes. Was she disappointed with what she had just heard?

"I am sorry for your loss." The way she furrowed her brow indicated sincerity. "And I understand now you have a valid reason to collect Van Hellsing's manuscripts." Lucind nodded slowly and pulled the cardigan tighter before knotting its woolen belt.

"But I can't accept your money, I'm afraid."

Her eyes locked back with his.

"It is too cold to match the passion that drives you to make the doctor's writings yours. I need something which is closer...to your heart."

Here, that certain glow returned for a second or two, when the Siren wondered in what way one could interpret this demand. For Lucind herself, it were this man's memories that made her fingers tingle. Would it be justified to take a memory as a payment? She could practically taste it, the power of the monk's recollections: full of knowledge. Full of anguish. Hmm yes, this kind of a price would be a feast - and a weapon. Not that of a moral type, but...

She reminded herself she would have to pay a few persons for retrieving the text. What she had found out in the lhor aven had shown her very clearly this mission was going to require patience. And the right bait. The Siren was known for keeping her word, for always paying the price she and her business partner had agreed on, but for a bargain to be realized, she would have to offer something intriguing and unusual to begin with. Van Hellsing's writings were kept by idealists or insane. Nobody easily caught with some coins.

"You don't have to pay me now.

I'd suggest I contact you in one week. By then, I should have the text you desire.

So...one week to think about what might match the worth you attach to the treatise."

Saying this, her look swiftly and casually wandered over his hair, which sported an unusual style for a monk, before it rested on Tenkai's rosary hanging around his neck, then the different one wrapped around the man's left hand and arm.

"Think about it thoroughly. There is no need to rush."

Lucind smiled a smile which balanced seriousness and warmth.



All the while, another part of the Siren of wary of itself, as if her mind was biting its nails, itching to treat itself with what it had just shown Maximos:
Lu's inner self smirked, not without a trace of amused irony. She had pratically trapped herself by feeding bits of information about the books in that secret room to her boyfriend, only intending to kindle his interest, no, desire to see and touch those dark tomes.
It was unnecessary to say that the Siren loved books, especially old and rare one's. It had been part of her for the longest time, ever since she was a small girl and watched her father repairing a precious book with the holiest earnest in his eyes. But that collection of forbidden volums played to a side the woman had only fully let into her life about a week ago. Before that, she hadn't resisted visiting those prisoners in the middle of the night, but it hadn't happened without a good amount of remorse and guilt, for allowing herself to trace the mental power her inmates carried on every single page:

It was like the twisted rejoicing in a collection of lethal, unique beasts, running one's fingers over their chains and leaning in just a little closer to smell their foul breath which told you about hundred or thousands of victims. The imprints of their cold souls were still sticking to cellulose, cloth and leather, and each thread sang of morbidity in all its glorious forms.

After listening to her prisoners' tales for a while and nibbling on their psionic outflows, the Siren always had had enough. She would go back to her room and have a tea; or stay in the library, maybe to fall asleep over the desk, surrounded by stacks of books, as if nothing had happened.


The Siren broke the eye contact with the monk and turned towards a nearby lantern. Doing so to turn a tiny metal wheel on the upper part of the lantern, she would throw a quick look at the Shadow.

"..."

In her head, she chuckled.  

[Maximos]

Maximos was as silent as his namesake.

He listened through a discussion involving a doctor he had only read about in myth. He listened to Tenkai's story. He saw and felt the sadness in the mans eyes even from across the room. Something about it all made his arm twitch anxiously. He had to admit, he found the story interesting, but unfortunately not for reason he was likely meant to.

Mr. Matsumoto had just presented Lucind with a very emotionally moving tale. A story of monsters, and men and loss. And then, in sympathy, he presented what gold he had to pay for the texts.

Most shopkeepers would be moved by this alone and hand over all they had. But what would Lucind do? How would she react. Her initial response, a simple...

"Ah..."

Was unreadable. Maximos' arm folded across his chest, his right eye flared from where he stood like the head of a cigarette in a dark room. Lucind's eyes softened, Max wondered if her heard did as well.

And then she turned Mr. Matsumoto's gold down. He grinned.

In a moment, he saw something in her. Something not hidden, but something not overtly discussed. A hunger of sorts. It put a warmth in his heart. It was something he recognized, something that lived beside him daily. It made his grin stretch wide across his face. This was Lucind, unleashed as it were. This was the shape the woman he loved was taking. Her eyes met his for but an instant, but it was enough to share the sentiment.

All that remained was Tenkai's answer.