The Night is for Hunting (Drey Malic x Andariel)

Lawrence, or Lance for short, was inside his room when he heard the knock at his door. “Come in” He said. His office study was small, a bookshelf on one wall, a desk at the center filled with assorted papers, letters and a few opened books. The slight smell of tabacco was in the air as a small trail of smoke still rose from the pipe that was placed on his desk. It was dark outside so there was no light coming in from the sole window of his office. The illumination of the room wasn’t bad though, there was a lamp on the desk that still lit the small room with its flame. Lance had a couple of papers in his hand that he was shifting through as he sat in his desk. He was wearing a white button up shirt and black trousers, a pair of socks and shoes and his blonde hair was still a contrast to his aquamarine blue eyes.

A man in his late fifties or sixties walked into the room. He was wearing a complete butler’s apparel, black suit, vest, white shirt and bow tie. He had a receding hair line to compliment his white hair and was well groomed with no facial hair. “Master Lance, you asked to be notified when it was ten o’clock. It is currently Nine fifty-five.” The man said.

Lance turned to look at the man and he nodded. A smile coming upon his lips almost and he stood to his feet. “Ah yes, thank you Winston. She gets out of work at about this hour…” He said. His last words almost slipping out of his mouth by mistake or by their own purpose to show his thoughts, it still showed that this man had something in mind. Lance reached to the coat rack and he grabbed a vest which he quickly buttoned up and then his black trench coat to accompany it. He was deciding if he wanted to grab a hat or go without and he opted for a scarf instead. He wrapped it around his neck and then turned to Winston and gave him a nod. “I’ll be back shortly, make a cup of tea in a few minutes and I’ll be back for it.” He said.

“Yes sir.” Winston said. He turned and left Lance.

Lance walked to his bedroom and he grabbed a cane out from his wardrobe. He made his way to the veranda of his room, opening the large doors and he stepped out into the open air. He was on the fifth floor of the building and the wind up here was a bit brisker than the wind at street level. “Ah, the air of Paris, much more gratifying than that of London.” He thought to himself. He looked down at the street below and it was empty, the lamps were lit so it was illuminated but that wasn’t going to be his path on this night. He looked up and he was on the top floor, the only thing above him was the roof and the starry sky. Lance took a moment to take a deep breath in and let it out with a toothy grin before he lightly stepped up on the stone railway of the veranda and then with the lightest of ease, as if he was as light as a feather, he jumped to the top of the roof in a single bound. From there on, he ran across the rooftops with quick and light feet. He only stopped when he reached the corner of a street and then he peered down from the top of the roof he was on.

This should be the street she uses to walk home… He thought to himself as he waited for his … unsuspecting prey.

Francis DeMuex was a wealthy man, especially for his line of work. As a young boy he had always been so much more interested in art than he had anything else. While his father encouraged Francis to peruse law work, his mother told him to follow his dreams. Now, that is precisely what he did, along with his trusty right hand, Adelaide Deodat. The young girls presence had always been appreciated, yet at times, she was far too curious for her own good.

Adelaide had always enjoyed working for Mr. DeMuex. Watching him paint was one of her favorite things to do, seeing the color smear onto a canvas while slowly coming into perspective. One thing she didn’t enjoy however, was meeting the families he was commissioned by. Mr. DeMuex always insisted she accompany him in such expeditions no matter how much she tried to shake him. These families always seemed rich, and entitled, something that they obviously were, yet she was a lady and in that, believed that modesty was above all, even when it came to the coin they had lying about.

“Mr. DeMuex! I sink zat it is time for me to go home…” Adelaide called out, her thick French accent echoing through the library of the man’s home. With dainty fingers, the girl grabbed the thick black pea coat she had long since abandoned on the arm of one of his table chairs. With the tapping of her low healed, light tan, leather laced boots, the young girl stepped through the threshold of his home, a brisk wind catching her cherry red hair, tousling her curls softly. Her fingers pulled at the edges of the jacket, pulling it tightly around her body, feeling her dress tickle at her legs. Unlike most women, she refused to wear a bustle. Adelaide found them to be ridiculous and much preferred a pretty straight dress, or even hoop skirt.

The thick light blue fabric kept her legs warm as she walked down the eerie night streets of Paris. She was very familiar with the town, she had lived there her entire life, yet she still walked at night alone. It was never a favorable act for most, but what else was she to do?
A softly hum escaped her lips as she moved, her legs taking her as fast as she possibly could, knowing full and well the dangers of the city streets at night. Her cerulean eyes watched her surroundings, hoping to get home without trouble, something she could do most nights.

It didn’t take long till his prey arrived in sight. Miss Adelaide as she was called. She had left the place of her work and was walking down the dark and poorly illuminated streets of Paris. That was quite the dangerous and courageous thing to do. Courage… isn’t that a funny word? It’s by far the nicest word to describe stupidity. Lance stayed at his perch high up on the roof top watching her for a moment before he got the gist of where she was going. He waited her out a bit before he left the Rooftops. He wanted to approach her but not scare her completely out of her wits.

He waited till she was closer to her home and then used the dark alley ways between a few buildings to drop from the top of a six story building and land on the ground without more noise than a muffled thump. Lance took a moment to make sure his apparel was all still in order, his scarf and his coat all still in place and then he slowly walked out of the alley way. Being part beast had it’s perks, the stronger and faster body, the heightened senses – specifically the sense of smell in Lance’s case. He took a deep breath of air through his nostrils before he stepped out in the light and he took in the smell that was radiating from Adelaide and he smirked a bit to himself. She was the smell of paintings, of varying types of paints to be exact. His intel on her was correct so far.

In the light, Lance waited till she came closer to him as he stood simply gazing off into the night sky a bit under a street lamp – the oiled flame was bright but not bright enough to get rid of all of the stars from the wondrous sky above. When Adelaide was close enough he turned in her direction a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Excusez-moi madame, auriez-vous par hasard être Miss Adelaide?” He said. Or in English he asked, ‘Excuse me miss, could you by any chance be Miss Adelaide?’

“En fait, vous comprenez l'anglais?” He said. ‘Actually, do you understand English?’

The man stood before her with a cane in hand as he leaned against it and looked at her. He was smiling a bit but he had an earnest smile if anything, something that said ‘you can trust me.’ He did want to get her attention with a bit of a scare, but not enough to spook her completely and his French wasn’t the best either. He had quite the English accent if anything and he was really hoping she’d be able to speak to him in English and not force him to try his French any more than he already had.

Adelaide continued with her humming, the softly melody trickling from her plush pink lips. She had finally calmed her adrenaline pumped body, letting her legs carry her home. It was almost as if she were on some sort of auto pilot. The only thing running through her mind was the warm bath that she knew the girls would have waiting for her at home. The thought of the warm water being pored over her cold skin already sent a shiver down her clothed spine.

Her eyes raised finally, deciding to take a good look around once more. No on behind her... Yet in front of her a dark shadow stood just outside one of the alleys. It was almost as if he had appeared from no where, she was sure he hadn't been there the last time she glanced. She could see that his chin was turned up, like he was looking at the skin. Over all, he didn't even seem to be paying her any attention. From her spot, she could see that he was a bit bigger than she, making him just as much a threat as anyone else.

Adelaide had learned when she was little to beware of those on the streets. Her mother instilled her her to never walk home alone, it was dangerous. At a young age Adele Deodat, Adelaide's mother, was snatched from the main sidewalk. The man had been at one of the local pubs, and clearly had alcohol on his breath. The man had taken her mothers innocents before leaving her to fend for herself, a sobbing mess in the cold Paris streets.

Even with such warnings Adelaide was not afraid of this man. Her arms crossed over her chest, her fingers resting against her the top of her corseted waist. With her chin tilted up and her eyes wouldn't connect with his as she prepared to walk past him. The only thing she hadn't expected was for him to speak to her.

“Excusez-moi madame, auriez-vous par hasard être Miss Adelaide?” His voice echoed through her ears, forcing her eyes to meet his own. His eyes were bright blue, a stark contrast with the dark trench he wore. The man's blonde hair reflected the dim street light. Adelaide practically froze in her spoke hearing her name being spoken from his mouth. His accent was foreign to her, she hadn't heard anything similar to it before. Before she was even able to open her mouth his own spoke once more, “En fait, vous comprenez l'anglais?”

Of course she could speak English. Mr. DeMuex had taught her. He had spent quite some time in London, yet his accent had never changed. He was still the French man she had always known. The real question was, did she want him to know that she could speak English? Her mind boggled for a few seconds, her eyes straying from his face, her curls licking at her cheeks as the wind blew once more.

Her feet began taking small steps once more, her head shaking, "Pas" she let out in her delicate voice. 'No'

Now all she wanted was to get home and away from this man, her mind was no longer on her bath, as her arms wrapped around her waist tighter.

Lance was a bit unhappy with the reply from Adelaie. Perhaps he had frightened her a bit much. He didn’t show it though, he wouldn’t make a frown and scare her some more nor did he reach out and touch her. Instead he reached into his coat and pulled out a sheet of paper from one of his coat pockets. He looked at her as she was staring to walk away. “Ah, désolé. Je pensais que vous étiez intéressé par ce qui était arrivé à la cathédrale ... avec les meurtres.” He said.

“Ah, sorry. I just thought you were interested in what had happened at the cathedral... with the murders.” He had said in french.

He reached over and handed her the parchment of paper he had pulled out of his coat. It was a business card and it was small. It had the face of a wolf on the front in black ink and then the back had a name: Lawrence Grey.

“Si vous êtes intéressé, me rencontrer demain matin en face de la cathédrale.” He said. He was quick and to the point with what he had to say to her. It wasn’t like he had much more to do anyways. He wasn’t one who liked to kidnap or to force a person to do something against their will. He preferred to play the curiosities and desires of others, manipulate them and then use them in that way.

“If you're interested, meet me tomorrow morning in front of the cathedral.” He had said in French.

And with that said, Lance nodded a bit and he turned and walked away from the girl. He turned the corner and was out of sight again. He had left her with only a few sentences but hopefully with ample curiosity as well. There had been that same smile on his face throughout the entire talk and he was quite pleased with himself. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that she would actually go there and meet with him in the cathedral but he had hopes. He needed someone to accompany him on his journeys and how better than an attractive and curious young French girl who could be manipulated into believing a lie?

If the girl had decided to follow Lance, she would’ve been in further confusion and bewilderment. The moment he turned the corner, he also took a few quick steps and turned into an alleyway where he vanished again from sight. No need to raise fear but if she had followed him or rather tried to, she would have been left with even more questions… and even more reason to meet him in the morning.