“I’m sure I know the creature who is behind it,” Lucius sighed.
Mors looked grim. “We believe the vampiress Angelique was the one who shielded you from others as well as your memories, though we do not know why. We do have an idea how to find out, but first, we must show you something.”
Somnus rose from his chair to the cabinet sitting behind them. He waved his fingers across it, pulling out a ledger seemingly from nothing. He opened it at the table, flipping through a few pages before turning the book so Lucius could see what it held.
“These are your assets,” Mors explained in response to Lucius’s widening eyes. “You have a far greater history than Angelique has ever let on. A creature named Thoth once told you everything, but Angelique’s power is strong. She has taken your memories and blocked Thoth from approaching you again.”
Lucius frowned, the name sounding vaguely familiar. He began to flip through the ledger.
“We do not know your entire history, only ours—that you were King Hades of the Underworld, though we all knew you were far older than that. You left me in charge when you rose to Earth with a goddess named Isis, becoming the first immortal blood drinker ever created. You were eventually cast down into Tartarus, where you happened upon the repentant souls of other castaway gods. When you rose back up to our Underworld, you brought them with you, charging me with their care. You had acquired vast amounts of wealth during your time on earth, which we managed until the day the realms were destroyed. Since we were all bound by our common duty, my brother, the Wraiths, and I rose to Earth together and moved our operation to the Middleworld, where we are sitting right now.
“We have kept your assets, but we’ve taken on other supernatural clients as time went on. We’ve become an impressive bank in our own right, but our loyalty is to you, first and foremost. Anything you should ever need in any lifetime, we are at your service.”
Lucius considered their words, looking over the impressive numbers again. A thought struck him. “What do you mean, the realms were destroyed?”
Mors sighed. “Unfortunately, we have no information except that something has swept through and destroyed everything besides the Earth and the Middleworld. We believe it is the reason why there are so many immortal creatures currently here. There is someone who we think can help give you more information on these matters, as well as more information on your true past. He is a blood drinker named David Hawthorne, residing in London.”
Somnus handed him another sheet of paper, listing the name and additional information about his whereabouts. Lucius stared at the scripted letters and the sketch that had been drawn beside it. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t recall why.
“He also happens to be blocked by magic, but we have a feeling you will be able to track him down. We can arrange for you to sail as soon as tomorrow,” Mors informed him.
“That is not possible. I have matters to attend to here.”
“That is the other thing we needed to tell you,” Somnus said. “The vampiress Angelique is no longer masquerading as Queen Marie Antionette. She has swapped with a replacement and fled Paris, but not before she left your name with the authorities, blaming you for the ghastly murder of a nobleman. She also accused you of treasonous acts towards the king.”
Lucius scoffed. “Which name?”
“Just the two, but we can’t be certain they won’t be able to find you by other means. We have it on good authority that she left several of her best demons to hunt you, in addition to the human soldiers sent by the king.”
Lucius sighed. “What do you propose?”
“We think you should leave for England as soon as possible. You own several merchant ships that can be ready immediately for departure, or a train ticket can be arranged.”
Lucius was quiet for a moment, considering everything they told him. “There is a woman named Genevieve who works at Madame LaBlanche’s cathouse. Contact her immediately. She is a reincarnated god and ally who has been managing the assets I acquired in this life, including several properties and a steamship of my own under the name Victor Regis. She will fill you in on all the details.” He wrote down a number on a slip of paper and handed it to Somnus. “I have a prior engagement tomorrow that I refuse to miss, but please purchase me a train ticket for the evening. And please give Genevieve the amounts listed on this paper, the top is for her personally, and the bottom amount is for her to give towards the Revolution, to distribute however she sees fit.”
Mors and Somnus nodded in sync as they rose to their feet, both appearing pleased he’d easily moved from bewildered into his former commanding role.
“Mr. Harrow is at your disposal,” Mors told him. “He will take care of anything you need to reach England.”
“Excellent.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mors extended his hand. “It’s good to have you back, sir.”
Somnus smiled as he mirrored the movement.
Back at his suite, Lucius sat in quiet reflection as the hours passed. His body didn’t need sleep anymore, but he still enjoyed moments of rest because they gave him time to think. The evening crept into morning and, by the time he emerged to greet the growing crowd outside, the sun was high in the sky.
The air was electric, as though lightning had struck in rapid succession, the swelter of summer morning thickened by the bodies who clustered the streets of Paris. Lucius hung in the shadows, watching the throng of bodies press forward, snowballing as it grew closer to the Bastille, pitchforks and shovels held high. He had anticipated the general excitement, but was pleasantly surprised to see how many regular Parisians promptly abandoned whatever they were doing to join the swelling group of protestors. He scanned the crowd, recognizing only a few loyal revolutionaries, the rest reacting out of pure frustration. He grinned as their shouting reverberated through the streets.
He adjusted his hat as he drew in closer, knowing that most were too distracted by the chaos to stop and wonder why he wore a full coat in the summer, or why he wore tinted glass over his eyes. He longed to be in the midst of the riot as they pounded relentlessly on the old wooden drawbridge of the archaic tower. He saw the handful of remaining prisoners hanging out their barred windows, cheering with the crowd as the guards let in a few representatives in hopes of compromise. Lucius shook his head with a smirk, knowing the crowd wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than blood sacrifice.
As he waited in the alley, he found himself wishing they’d brought torches, like a proper rebellion. Nothing seemed to stir up passion quite like fire. He was fixated on the wood gate, imagining it was kindling, when there was a sudden tingling warmth in his hands. He could feel the origin in his chest, as if his pumping heart ignited sparks of electricity that flowed throughout his body. He heard a loud pop in his ears and miraculously, the part of the fence he’d been staring at caught fire. He blinked in surprise, wondering if he had done it. The persistent tingling in his hands answered his question, provoking him to try again. This time it was a wagon situated not far from a lump of crowd, who cried out in alarm as the wagon burst into flames.
“Amazing,” he breathed. Angelique never mentioned anything about vampires having supernatural gifts. It was either another thing she’d withheld as a method of control or it was something he’d carried over from his forgotten past. Either way, he was pleased.
He caught a few other structures on fire before deciding to conserve his energy, taking a look at his pocket watch to check the time. It was growing closer to one, which meant Christophe and an insurgent named Paul would soon be emerging from their fruitless negotiation. The watch burned a hole in his pants when he replaced it, a result of his scalding hands, letting him know that he needed to be careful with this new power. He found a nearby bucket of water, a low hiss releasing from the water as he submerged them, causing smoke to snake up and around him. Something about the dark water made him pause once it settled around his skin, hypnotizing him. A shadowy recollection pushed through the haziness of his mind, a woman sitting on his lap, staring with him into the water. Somehow, the water was hers, but they both belonged to him. He tried to grab at the faint images, but they drifted further away the harder he tried to pull them back. He let out a sound of frustration and a loud crow responded. He looked out to see that a group of them had collected over the crowd, waiting to see what would transpire.
“Mr. Hades,” a man said breathlessly, as he rounded the corner of the alleyway. It was Mr. Harrow, dressed in rags as a disguise, his wide, dark eyes eerie in the daylight. “Everything has been taken care of, but we must leave now. Someone has given you up.”
“Nonsense—” Lucius tried to protest, but suddenly he saw soldiers pushing through the crowd.
“Sir, I have to insist,” Mr. Harrow said. “You are at a disadvantage in the sunlight. One accidental shove and you’ll fall victim to the sun’s rays.”
Lucius grumbled, but agreed.
Mr. Harrow wasted no time, grabbing Lucius’s hands firmly in his own. Lucius blinked and they were back at the offices of Somnus & Mors.
“Forgive my forwardness,” Harrow said as he let go of his hands. Lucius noticed a pile of folded clothing and shoes on the table, proper attire for a gentleman to travel in. He was grateful to observe that the colors were dark, accented by violet. “I must change before we depart and I suggest you do the same,” Harrow said. “We have a carriage waiting in the back. Our train departs in an hour. You will have a private box with shaded windows.”
Lucius nodded as he pulled off his cloak and soiled linen shirt. He pretended not to notice Harrow’s quick survey of his bare chest and his flustered expression as he turned away, heading to another room to get himself dressed. It only took a few moments before he resurfaced. “Are you ready, sir?”
Lucius gave him a curt nod as he adjusted his cravat. “Let us go to England.” THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, 1858
libraean
Libraean opened and closed his fist, stretching his sore writing hand. He watched the ink dry on the paper before looking up at Lucius, letting the story he just heard settle around the both of them. Lucius looked reflective, smoking one of his spiced cigarettes and watching the smoke swirl up to the ceiling. It was hard for Libraean to imagine how much life he had seen. He was far from young himself, but his existence had been one of solitude and reflection. All the great moments of human history passed him by as he kept his nose buried in his work, the complete opposite of Lucius’s turbulent reality. “And you still have no recollection of what happened to you from Tartarus to Hades?” he asked him.
