Shooting the Messenger

Lorcan was looking cool on the outside, but this had been unsettling. He dressed this morning, careful to be impeccable. Some things had to start looking as if it were business as usual. He chose a meticulously tailored black suit, with a white shirt, and a trim black tie. He chose a pair of glasses purposely for their darker tint, and not because he needed them to see.

Zada had been supportive in the silent spaces where he'd needed it. When things were busy, Lorcan focused and moved forward. In the silent spaces, where his rage preoccupied him, Zada had been steady. He wasn't fooled into thinking she had done it out of any familial devotion, although they both were starting to fall into an uncomfortable sort of relationship. It almost felt--warm. Something neither of them were used to. When the warmth started to emerge, they mutually pushed it back into business. This was, after all, just business.

From behind him, she brought him a cup of tea and set it on the dresser as he threaded the onyx and diamond cufflinks into his shirtsleeves, and when she kissed him on the cheek, he glanced up at her reflection in the mirror and he caught himself smiling slightly. Was she smiling back a little?

"Can I talk you into a scone at least?" she asked quietly. "Its been days, Lorcan."

"No. I'm not hungry," he said. Then he remembered his manners. "Thank you, though." She picked up the white gold cigarette case and handed it to him. She handed him the usual content of his pockets one item at a time. She'd started to do that for him lately.

"Shall I at least pick up a bottle of sleeping potion for you, then?" she had chosen her words carefully.

"No," he said, trying not to sound abrupt. "Just please have the house elves put fresh tea in my office please--at once. I'm expecting Du Hunt this morning."

"And what will you do, Lorcan?" She asked, sighing, concerned. He turned and looked at her squarely.

"I'm going to ask for her help," he said quietly. "Now, send for the tea, please."

"Of course," she said. He watched her as she turned and left. She was dressing today particularly to please him, in the figure fitting dress he'd bought her because it matched her eyes. He had noticed she'd deliberately chosen it today, and he appreciated it. He glanced at the clock. Damn. He was running four minutes late. Du Hunt would either be already here or here momentarily. And he was never late.

Katrina-Carlotta stood outside the door of Lorcan D'Eath's office. His empty office. Her first reaction upon receiving the abrupt missive from her fellow Death Eater, was to be mildly offended. Upon her second read, however, the witch became mildly alarmed. The message had seemed slightly out of character for the man, meaning one of two things. The first option being that the letter was forged, and the second that something was wrong. Quickly casting a multitude of scanning and security charms, the witch decided that it was almost certainly the latter. The assassin wasn't quite sure if this made her feel better or worse.

The witch had not fretted, however, aware of the fact that Lorcan could be worried about any of a multitude of things. In fact, it was possible that the half-vampire was stressing over something that effected her in no way what-so-ever. Katrina-Carlotta knew that such a possibility was fairly unlikely.

Therefore, the dark witch had walked into D'Eath manor armed with two wands, three blades, and a pocketful of harmful dark artifacts. After all, Katrina-Carlotta was never unprepared for anything.

Upon reaching the door of Lorcan's office two minutes after the hour, the European winced internally. Lorcan was late, the D'Eath was never late. Pursing her lips slightly, the woman could only hope that they weren't about to have another Topez fiasco. After all, there were only so many Death Eaters she could kill without making a significant dent in their numbers. Slowly spinning her wand within the fingers of her right hand, Katrina-Carlotta casually leant against the wall of the opulent manor.

Zada went downstairs and glanced towards Lorcan's office. She sighed. She battled with him these days to open the drapes. This would not do. He would want things to appear normal.

"Oh!" one of the house elves ran up to her, looking where she was looking and seeing the drapes still drawn. "Oh, Mistress! He closed them yesterday. I wanted to open them but...." he whispered, trying not to let Du Hunt hear.

"Just get the tea," Zada said softly. "I'll take care of it."

"Yes, Mistress," he hurried off to bring the prepared tea tray. Zada walked to Lorcan's office, her heels making a relaxed tap, tap, tap on the marble floors as she walked through the foyer and then into the office.

"Oh, Ms. Du Hunt," she said. "Good morning. We're running a few minutes behind this morning. Our apologies." She went over and opened the drapes and then the leaded glass doors that opened into the landscaped courtyard and its fountain and flowers, letting sunshine and fresh air spill into the room.

The house elf brought tea and put the tray on the sideboard. "Master's Earl Grey," the elf told Zada. He turned and left rather quickly.

Zada looked at Du Hunt. "Thank you for coming so promptly, Ms. Du Hunt. Tea?" She poured Lorcan's cup of tea and put it in its place on his desk. "He's on his way. He's been a wee bit out of his stride the last few days."

Lips turning upwards slightly at the sound of heels tapping against the hard floor, Katrina-Carlotta turned to meet her fellow dark witch.

"It's a pleasure as always, Ms. Forbes," the woman replied smoothly. Idly wondering if Zada would be attending the meeting with herself and Lorcan, the European sent the blonde a polite smile. "It was hardly a problem, I only just arrived myself. Besides, the manor certainly isn't unpleasing to the eye," Katrina-Carlotta added. While the assassin certainly owned a large multitude of properties, none of them were anywhere near as large or architecturally impressive as D'Eath manor.

The room brightened as Zada opened the drapes hiding an impressive view of a well-maintained courtyard. Katrina-Carlotta spent a moment attempting to visualize herself living this type of lifestyle, and then immediately disregarded it. After all, the need for luxuries had been the downfall of many a powerful wizard.

"I had assumed as much from the wording of his letter," the dark-haired female admitted after a moment, "and tea would be fabulous. One sugar, no milk, if you please." Keeping a careful eye on the other woman as she attended to the tea, more out of respect for Zada as another skilled killer than anything else, Katrina-Carlotta filled her lungs with the fresh summer air.

"Most of this is original to the house," Zada said, pouring the tea for Du Hunt and adding just one sugar. She put the small tea spoon on the saucer and handed it to her.

"The Malfoys had good taste. From what we found, though, it does appear that it was redecorated in the Second War to follow more of Voldemort's tastes. We saw fit to restore it to its original design."

Lorcan came down the main staircase, about to head to his office, when the house elf stopped him.

"Master, a moment. One moment," he called.

"Yes, what is it?" Lorcan stopped, feeling a bit impatient. The elf snapped his fingers, and Lorcan felt his suit readjust. It was taken in significantly.

"Master hasn't eaten. The suit...Master likes it to fit right."

"Indeed," Lorcan said, unaware his clothes were looking bigger. "Well done." The elf smiled, glad Loran was pleased, and darted off to the kitchen. He paused enough to take a breath to regain his usual steady composure and went to his office.

"Good morning, Ms. Du Hunt," he said, attempting to merely breeze in as if all were business as usual. "Thank you, Zada."

"Would you like me to stay?" she asked quietly.

"No, thank you. That won't be necessary," he said. She'd opened those damned drapes. His other women had done what they were told. Zada rarely did what she asked, let alone anything she was told. Telling Zada anything just never worked. He made a silent note to himself to not take up again with a mercenary in the future.

"As you wish," Zada said, excusing herself. She left, closing the office doors. Lorcan waved his hand at the drapes, closing them partway.

"You'll excuse me," he said, motioning for her to sit. "But the vampire in me doesn't always appreciate the morning sun." It was the best excuse he had. "Tell me, how familiar are you with local events in the last week or so?"

"Good morning," Katrina-Carlotta retuned swiftly as the owner of the manor swept smoothly into the room. Lifting the teacup that Zada had handed her from its saucer to her lips, the assassin took a small sip. While the witch had nothing against tea, and even rather enjoyed it at times, the woman couldn't help but think that the Brits took their love of the drink a tad too far.

Nodding to Zada as she left the room with heels clicking, Katrina-Carlotta sunk into the seat the wizard had gestured towards.

Setting her teacup and saucer down onto the desk in front of her, the dark witch took a moment to internally muse if there was any significance into Zada opening the drapes only for Lorcan to close them. She'd met many a half-vampire whom had no problem with the sun, but the vampire gene was odd in that it displayed itself in different ways with different people. Katrina-Carlotta had always found this irritating, thinking that humans were complex enough without throwing indecisive genetics into the mix.

"Local events of the last week?" the witch queried softly. Coming up relatively blank, the female took another sip of tea. Still not remembering anything of significance, Katrina-Carlotta furrowed her brows.

"I have been fairly busy this past week. Either an event managed to pass by me unnoticed, or I've been unaware of the significance in something," the European admitted, accent slightly stronger in her confusion. "What happened?" Katrina-Carlotta flat-out asked after a single heartbeat of silence.

Moving to touch the wand tucked neatly into one of her inner pockets, the female began to twirl the wood between two fingers in a soothing repetitive pattern. Katrina-Carlotta didn't like being unaware of things. Reaching down in an almost unnoticeable movement, the assassin ran her index finger down the flat side of one of her blades. She really didn't like being unaware of things, especially important things.

"There has been some...unfortunate....killing," Lorcan said, unaccustomed to not having words simply slipping like quicksilver from his tongue. His natural talent for eloquence feeling gone these days.

He looked up at her through his tinted lenses, trying to be removed and distant. Say the words, he thought to himself.

"My daughter Alexis has been murdered," he said with every intent to summon his anger forward rather than his pain.  "I intend for the murderess to remain alive. Death is far too good for her.  You see," Lorcan said, allowing his bitterness to help him through the difficult explanation, "I do not wish her to escape any sort of suffering or agony that life might have to teach her. I do seek your help, though.  She does not seem to comprehend that the little dueling games she likes to play can have dire consequences.

"I asked you here to ask if you will help me send her a message? Will you help her to experience her own pain of what happens when those she cares about are innocently hurt when there is not a thing she can do about it?

"I asked you to come here, not as a Death Eater, but as a mission for me, personally. I want you to help me make every person suffer that Jack Dyllan cares about.  Dyllan herself is to remain alive and unharmed. And, if this was an Order matter, then I want you to tell me at once. Can you do that for me and, well, respect my need for my family's privacy? This would be, for obvious reasons, most unwise to get through our ranks unless it were absolutely unavoidable."

Alexis D'Eath was dead. Well, that explained a lot. "My condolences," the witch said softly with a respectful nod of her head. Katrina-Carlotta had never had children, and likely never would. Completely aware that she had no way of even starting to comprehend the pain and anger this man was feeling, the woman remained silent for a few moments, in respect to the young dark-haired girl she'd seen at Death Eater gatherings.

"Of course I'll help," Katrina-Carlotta offered without hesitation. She knew Jack Dyllan, they'd met many times in the last six months. This was almost a perfect excuse to go after the redhead. Not that she usually needed an excuse to go after anyone who annoyed her, but Lorcan was asking for a whole new level of destruction. Mind flitting for a second to Albus Potter and his connection to the witch, her resolve only hardened.

"Jack Dyllan and I have crossed paths before," the assassin admitted with a wicked glint in her eye, "to say that we didn't get along would be something of an understatement. It will not be difficult for me to ensure that your daughter is in no way tied to the unfortunate happenings that will soon be surrounding Ms. Dyllan."

Lifting the teacup to her lips, Katrina-Carlotta took a large sip of the warm liquid. Carefully retuning the cup to its saucer, the European looked back up into the face of the half-vampire. "Thank you for the trust you are placing in me be coming to me directly. For the little it is worth, I'm sure she was a great witch," the words were cool and hesitant, as if they'd never before been spoken.

Katrina-Carlotta wasn't good with comfort. She was the type of person to laugh at sobbing parents as she slaughtered their children. So, no, she wouldn't be any help to the D'Eath family through words. But via her actions, well, she was sure the fall of Jack Dyllan would help the man feel a little better. Murder and destruction? That she could do.

"Thank you. As I said, from the dossier I have been provided on Dyllan, she is a Gryffindor. Striking her directly will not, probably, prove to be as effective as if you were to impact the people or things she cares about.

"You do know that its one of their worst traits. Gryffindors are rank sentimentalists.  Its their biggest Achilles' heel.  It makes them willing to kill themselves for love. Idiots."

He paused, sipping on his own tea.

"Oh, and incidently, I will be relying on you to shoulder that end of the business.  Zada is not going to be active in that end for the immediate future." He managed a slight amused smile. "It seems I have lost a wager. She bet me that one of my potions was not as limitless as I assured her it was. I couldn't see a loss either way, so I saw her wager.

"As it happened, she won. So, she is now, officially, the lady of the manor. She is the latest Mrs. D'Eath.  I am anticipating some increased moodiness from her in the months to come when I become a father again and she finds herself a first time mother. It was definitely not in her plans."  He managed a laugh. "Amuses me to no end. She has the patience of a gnat."

Katrina-Carlotta tipped her head back and laughed upon registering Lorcan's words. "My congratulations, I'm sure your child will be quite the wizard upon reaching adulthood, considering the mother and father involved," her words were less smooth than usual, hardly choppy, but sounding as if she'd had to stop and think, unlike her usual easily-flowing speech.

"Although, I must say, you really should know better than to make a wager with a mercenary Lorcan, especially one of Zada's caliber. I could have warned you against that, not that I'm positive I would have," Katrina-Carlotta said with an undertone of teasing to her voice. She didn't know Zada well, but the assassin had figured that it was only a matter of time before the blonde and Lorcan made it official.

Leaning back a little farther in her chair, the European let out a long breath of air through her nose. Rolling her neck so that it made a satisfying crack, Katrina-Carlotta smiled slightly at the release of tension. "Jack Dyllan has a five year-old niece," she announced off-handedly, as if talking about the weather instead of a potential murder. When one thought about it, she probably talked about murder more than the weather anyway.