black_wolf (black_wolf) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-08-04 10:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucien swinton, maggie swinton, malcolm sayers |
Who: Lucien, Maggie, Malcolm, Damian (NPC)
What: A second attempt, and a shattering revelation
Where: Iver, a small town by the estate
When: 4 August, 1888
Rating: PG-13 (death)
While the Night Watch was most insistent about providing a security detail, they had been rather good about keeping their relative distance, and between them and Malcolm (who’d taken to arming himself with a pistol that chambered silver-tipped bullets), Lucien felt the entire business was more than covered.
The wolf who’d attacked him still hadn’t been caught, nor had there been adequate explanation of what his motives might have been, so it was still rather up in the air, but he was well and determined to attempt to live as normal a life as he could despite it all -- it was a matter of pride, partially, and a practical matter as well -- his wife, only so recently out of mourning, deserved the freedom to move about the city once more, to go to concerts and the theater, to simply walk arm in arm with him -- and he didn’t want them both cloistered indoors for God knows how long, even though it was certainly a sight more pleasant to be cloistered together. So, for the time being, they compromised.
At the moment, they were making their way back from a call on the Fosters -- a touch awkward, but necessary to show good faith on his part -- he’d written ahead the day before to make sure they were aware, in case Katherine would want to make herself scarce -- but they’d managed to have a tolerably good visit all told.
“Thank you for that,” he said to Maggie, quietly. “I’m quite lucky to have such an understanding wife,” he added. Katherine’s leaving had cut him deeply -- he was grateful Maggie wasn’t the jealous type, and took his hurt as the loss of a friend, not a potential rival. That, and she’d been kind enough to not hold Katherine’s vitriol against the rest of the Fosters.
“It’s entirely up to you, of course,” he added, “but I believe Ana would leap at the chance to have tea with you sometime, if you’re amenable.” He faltered a little in his expression -- he wasn’t quite sure of the Fosters these days after Katherine’s sudden and vicious turn, and his apparent obliviousness to it all -- but at the very least, the younger Fosters deserved every chance they could get -- even moreso now that their eldest siblings were both out of the pack.
“Anna’s delightful, and we’re close in age.” Maggie squeezed his arm as they walked. “And it was no trouble. The Fosters seem like good people, I don’t have any reason to hold grudges over something that isn’t their fault.”
It was the truth. She’d married the man of her dreams and didn’t have the baggage that Lucien carried when it came to the Fosters. There was no doubt in either of their minds that they were Mates, and she had no ill will toward Katherine. If anything she wished there was a way they could somehow be reconciled, but that was up to the other woman and not her.
“I’d be happy to have tea with her. Once I have my feet firmly under me at Black Park I might invite her input and her mother’s on how things are run.” With Lucien busy with the overall pack business and his seat in the House of Shadows the actual running of the household and the day to day affairs of the village had been frozen in time, or on autopilot as the blimp jockeys might say. There hadn’t been a Lady Black since his mother had died, and while Maggie hadn’t been there long she could already see several things that could stand updating. It wasn’t something that could happen overnight however, and she wanted to make sure she had the support of the community before going off and making changes.
“Excellent thought,” he replied. “It’s a good way for Ana to step up a little, start to fill Kat’s -- Miss Foster’s shoes, and I think it’s high time for her to have more responsibilities. And Martha, Malcolm’s mother, is also an excellent resource for that sort of thing.” He tipped his head towards his aide, who was looking out at the street -- no doubt keeping up a vigilant watch. “Isn’t that right, Mal? She makes a great many house calls during the week to keep on top of how those in the pack are faring, and she, Matthew, and Mr and Mrs Foster have been real helpmeets over the years.”
Ever since the last attack, Malcolm had been so vigilant - looking out for the safety of his pack, his family, Isabel, and his friends. Yet Lucien came first in most respects away from Black Park. And carrying the gun was something he wouldn’t have considered unless it was absolutely necessary. And he didn’t want anyone to have an opportunity to harm Lucien again.
“Hmm?” He spoke, blinking and making eye contact with Maggie. “Yes, yes she does. Mother is almost if not more so than father.” Malcolm smiled to help ease the tension he felt within himself. At Lucien and Maggie’s wedding, Isabel seemed different especially after mingling with one of the male guests. So his mind was torn in more than two directions.
“I can see I’ll have my hands full just trying to make my own place among the ladies of the pack without getting anyone’s feelings hurt.” Maggie observed with a smile. So far everything had gone well, but she hadn’t tried to exert her authority as Lady Black either. She was still very much in the listening and watching mode, trying to learn all she could about the interactions between various pack members. “I’ll be sure and speak with your mother.”
His focus on security hadn’t gone unnoticed and she silently blessed him for being so focused on protecting Lucien from harm. Though what harm could possibly come here in the village she had no idea.
Iver was a sleepy village, with the usual assortments -- a smattering of pubs, restaurants, and shops, a church, and a rather pleasant village green. Some of the pack worked there, enough to make it feel nearly like an extension of their territory -- safe, and familiar.
“I have no doubt you’ll manage a good sight better than I have,” Lucien replied, a small, wry smile flitting across his face. He leaned over to kiss her cheek. He’d told Katherine that he felt as though he’d been holding together the pack with baling-twine these last few decades, and it wasn’t far from the truth -- the scale of what he’d had to take over had been overwhelming at first, and with the loss of his parents and his mentor, and a brewing war occurring in quick succession, he was all too aware of how much he’d been treading water.
“Before we take off for London, we might have a pack meeting of sorts -- I try to have a few key members by for tea once a month or so, in order to sit around and chew over things,” he added, thoughtfully. “I don’t see why we can’t have our usual get-together a little earlier than usual, since we are all here. And it goes without saying, but I honestly cannot wait for the next full moon,” he continued with a grin.
A sudden movement caught his eye, and he paused, a snarl rising in his throat as he looked over at the origin of the motion that’d grabbed his attention, alert, and hyper aware that he had his other half next to him, a piece of his soul, and he’d tear through an army if she was in danger.
He could smell it -- a tang of adrenaline in the air, an unfamiliar wolf so close to his territory, his Mate -- and he very nearly howled at whoever it was to bloody show themselves already, to come out so he could tear into him.
Malcolm tensed at Lucien’s pausing, stopping to look over in the same direction and and sniff the air. He agreed - an unfamiliar wolf was close. The young wolf slipped his hand into his coat to retrieve his revolver. Instinctively, he moved around to be in front of Lucien and Maggie. He hoped deep down he wouldn’t have to use the gun, but his finger was already on the trigger as he listened for footfalls.
The attack, when it came, was blindingly fast -- a shot whizzed past Lucien and struck the brick behind him -- he could feel the heat of it as it went past, and he shouted, pointing in the direction where it’d come as he pushed he and Maggie into a doorway, the nearby Night Watch coming towards them at a run.
Remarkably enough, the wolf who’d fired on them -- a different one from the previous, by the look of him -- came roaring towards them, brandishing his pistol, at a dead run, eyes red and a howl in his throat, already starting to shift.
“Wha-?” Maggie barely had time to register what the sound of the impact against the brick meant as she was shoved into a doorway. She looked with wide eyes as the new wolf came at them. Damn these corsets and petticoats, it’d take forever to do something even if she could get past Luce and Malcolm. With both Malcolm and the security provided by the Nightwatch, well, it’d all be over before she could do anything.
Following the direction from where the shot originated, Mal moved in front of Lucien and Maggie and then he saw the shooter, the strange wolf he smelled. And at that dead run, his eyes flared and he was about to growl when he pointed his gun and fired. Mal’s shot hit true - hitting the wolf in the heart. Gritting his teeth, Mal held his other hand out and braced his stance as he was ready to take the brunt of whatever happened next.
Damian crumpled before he got to Malcolm, snarling, gripping his chest, and as he looked up at them all, his lip curled. “Peter Foster sends his regards,” he gasped harshly, “his… his call,” he wheezed, and then spasmed once and died.
Lucien felt his stomach drop, and he gripped Maggie’s hand tightly. “You’re not hurt?” He asked her, more to assure himself than anything. “Mal?” He called out, his head spinning at the strange wolf’s accusation.
Peter. Peter of all people.
Mal took a step closer, in case the wolf had any other ideas or bursts of energy. He stared down at Damian and breathed, letting his hand still gripping the gun drop to his side, as the wolf spoke. Peter?
Then he heard Lucien’s call and turned, moving over to his Alpha and Maggie. There was hint of a tremble in his shoulders, but nothing more yet. Mal breathed, “You two alright?” He couldn’t smell anyone else’s blood than that of the strange wolf he had just shot and killed.
“I’m fine.” Maggie replied to both men, repressing the urge to pry her hand from Lucien’s almost painful grip. She looked back and forth between the two, gaze searching. “And what about you?” And what was this about Peter? The wolf she hadn’t met but was the ghost in the room throughout all her interactions with the Fosters. What had that meant?
“I’m… I’m unharmed,” Lucien replied, a little pale.
Oh, God, the Fosters was currently running through his head, battling it out with Peter? and a surge of concern for Malcolm, who looked as shaken as he felt.
“I need…” he sighed. “I need to find out what’s happened,” he murmured, turning to Maggie, his face no doubt reflecting his uncertainty, the horror of Peter Foster echoing in his ears. “Love, I need to sort this out. I need to go to Katherine.” He raised her hand to kiss it, an apologetic wince on his face.
Katherine had been writing Peter, he knew that much. Beyond that, he needed time.
The Night Watch man who’d been trailing them had first gone to the body, checking for signs of life, but he straightened, face red, whether from exertion or embarrassment at not being more of use, it was difficult to tell.
“Right,” he huffed, whipping out a handkerchief. “Right,” he repeated, wiping his forehead. “Good shot, Mr Sayers,” he said, to Malcolm. “Peter Foster, eh?” he said, and Lucien’s heart lurched in his chest.
Nodding to Maggie and Lucien, Malcolm breathed and then looked over at the Night Watch man. He was starting to tremble more - the adrenaline of the event waning and the weight of what he had done was sinking in. But there was no time to decompress just yet.
“Yes, my Lord,” Malcolm breathed. “I will accompany you.”