Home | Forum | Mailing List | Repository | Links | Gallery
 
 
Chapters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
 
 
 

For the Love of Deadly Nightshade - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by CrystalWren
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 5

Seventeen-year-old Belladonna Boudreux was limping through the tunnel, a foreign elbow wedged in her side and her foot aching with each staggering step. As she dragged Lucien (who was draped over one shoulder) a thought drifted into her mind: Why de hell does dis seem familiar? It feels as though I've done dis before. Well, obviously she had. What was this? The third time? The fourth? It sounded like a bad writing device, the kind that writers use when they're stuck on how to open a chapter. It sounded like a scratched record. Lucien accidentally stepped on her foot- the good one, fortunately, and Belle cast her eyes to the ceiling as if she was looking to the sky for God. If dere is a God, thought Belle, then she must be a desperate and frustrated writer whose only outlet is writing cheap stories, the kind that are posted over the internet. Lucien trod on her foot again. We're all an illusion created by dark and crazed mind, which delights in watching us as we stumble- here Lucien kicked her in the ankle- wondering whether we are real or just imagined. Belle suddenly stopped, and had to catch Lucien before his momentum carried him off her shoulder.

"Was' wrong?" he slurred, gazing blearily at her.

"Nothing," said Belle hesitantly. She looked at Lucien, face centimetres from his (Mon dieu, thought Belle, even his breath smells good) "did you hear something?" He blinked at her, and shook his head. Belle frowned. "I could have sworn I heard somebody laugh."

"Laugh?" repeated Lucien with a frown.

"Well, not a laugh really. More like a snigger…non?"

Again, Lucien shook his head.

"Oh," said Belle, shrugging her shoulders, "it must've been my imagination." That shrug was a mistake. Unable to support his own weight he slid off, collapsing gently to the floor and carrying her with him. Ah well, thought Belle. Time for a break anyway. She managed to drag herself to the wall and prop herself up against it, and Lucien followed her. Side by side they sat legs stretched out in front of them, trying to wiggle their toes but not having much success.

She glanced sideways at Lucien, and gasped a little.

"What?" he said shortly, returning the look.

"Nothin'. It's just dat- well, ya eyes have turned red again. Like dey were before, when we met when we were pups."

Lucien sighed, and said, with the slightly exasperated tones of one who has explained all this before: "whenever I'm hurt, or surprised or afraid, dey go normal for a bit. Den dey go red again."

"Oh." Belle grinned. "But I betcha you're not afraid of anyt'ing are ya?" she said, hoping to stir his ego a bit.

"I'm afraid of a lotta t'ings."

Belle blinked, the flat admission catching her off guard. Most of the boys of his or her own age would puff themself up and pretend to be invincible. Then again, that sort of attitude would be hard to sustain if he regularly went through the sort of bloody messes that she had picked him out of not less than an hour ago. Belle grinned again. He looked like a demented angel with his looks and those eyes, and it was refreshing to know that he wasn't just 'an ordinary boy' on the inside. Suddenly, Lucien seemed twice as attractive- and considering how attractive he had been to Belle before that was really saying something.

"Lucien?"

"What?"

"Before- just after you hit me, you called me 'Nightshade'. Why did you do dat?"

Lucien actually looked embarrassed. "Well, your name's Belladonna, right? Dat means 'Nightshade', don' it? I thought about it a bit, an' 'Nightshade' seemed to suit you, so I've been kind of calling you dat in my head."

He's been thinking about me! Yeeessssss! I'm in the race! She resisted the urge to jump and crow at the top of her lungs. She contented herself with merely grinning like an idiot.

"I mean," continued Lucien, "you were so little and cute. So nasty. And deadly. 'Nightshade' seemed to fit you, because you looked like a weed, but you could kill."

Hang on. "Did you call me a weed?" she asked incredulously.

Lucien looked puzzled. "Yes. Little and scrawny. That's what I meant."

"Little and scrawny? Little and scrawny?" Belladonna spluttered for a few seconds, before hauling herself to her feet. She scowled down at him. He looked innocent. "Are you teasing me?" She asked incredulously.

"Teasin'? Don't be ridiculous. I'm de Antiquary's Favourite. I don' know how." He dug the gloved fingers of his good left hand into the cracks in the brickwork and used this leverage to get up. He leaned against the wall to try and catch his breath. His right shoulder hurt like hell, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Wordlessly, Belladonna took his left arm and draped it across her shoulders, and thus supporting his weight they began to stagger together down the softly glowing brickwork tunnel.

"Lucien," said Belle after a few shuffling steps. "Why did you fight dat boy? The one you just killed, I mean."

Lucien grunted in pain as a particularly hard step sent minor earthquakes up his injured leg, the one that had been cut by his opponent's rapier- and even worse, the one that he had been lying on while he was unconscious. He breathed in carefully. "He was jealous of me. He wanted to be the Antiquary's Favourite, like I was. But no matter what he did he was just another boy in the Collection. So he led me into dese tunnels and challenged me, thinking that that would at least make de Antiquary notice him. He lost."

"Very messily too, I might add. Did ya have to be so violent? You decapitated him an' eviscerated him. Don' you think dat's a little over de top?"

To his credit, Lucien managed to look embarrassed. "I- I never liked him very much. Besides, it's best to make sure dat things are really dead in the Collection. You never know what's going to get back up an' bite you."

Belle snorted. "No chance of dat now." Lucien trod on her foot. Again. She hissed in pain, but decided to let it pass. "Can I ask another question?"

Lucien rolled his eyes, but she was concentrating on her footwork and didn't see.

"Why is your collar always covered?"

Lucien stopped abruptly, and Belle did too. He gazed at her wildly, and if she'd just pulled a live Taipan snake out from her pocket. Then wordlessly, he pulled the black cloth of his shirt away from his neck, revealing his collar. Now, as a member of the Assassins Guild of New Orleans, Belle had seen some beautiful bits of jewellery in her time, but this- this was amazing. There were really no words to describe it.

It was gold, as the collars of the favourites of the Collection always were, but gold was just the base of it. The gold was caved and polished with fantastic designs, set with a hundred tiny jewels, with some of the designs accented with silver platinum. If you had taken it off Lucien's neck and used it as a circlet crown for an Elven Prince it would have fooled you into thinking that it wasn't a collar at all. The most incredible thing about it was that, for all its intricacy, it was just a centimetre and a half wide. Just looking at it Belle knew that its' cost would pay the wages of three generations of Assassins in her Clan- even with inflation. Every jeweller makes a masterwork before they die, but this- this was nothing short of incredible. Nothing human could have made it. It surely wasn't possible. Belle tore her eyes away from the collar with an effort.

"I thought," she said hoarsely, "dat de collars were always plain."

Lucien covered it again with his shirt again. "Guess I'm just special," he said uncomfortably.

Belle took a shuffling step forward- and promptly stubbed her toe, the injured one. She hissed in agony, but took another step anyway. Lucien, hanging off her shoulder as he was, had no choice but to follow her.

"Knew I shouldn't have showed you," he muttered under his breath. Belle ignored him, and continued half carrying him down the tunnel.

After half an hour of slow, painful and silent progress, Lucien spoke up.

"Belle," he said plaintively, "suppose we do get out of dis tunnel, and escape-"

"-We will," said Belle determinedly.

"-Where will we go?"

"I've got a small hideaway in the right side of town. We'll stay there until we can sneak out of the state. Or the country." Or the planet.

"Don't you mean 'de wrong side of town'?"

"Non. In the wrong side of town it'll be too easy for de Assassins Guild and de Thieves Guild to get us back. In the right side of town dere be plenty of people too stupid to know dat dey shouldn't call de police."

"Dat makes sense, I suppose. Belle…"

Belle sighed. "What now?"

"What are you running away from?"

Belle froze.

"It's just that you haven't said anyt'ing," continued Lucien.

"What makes you t'ink dat I'm running away from anybody?" said Belle in tones of ice.

"You're here, ain't you? In dese tunnels. You were running away from somet'ing de first time, and you have to be running away from somet'ing now. Is it de same thing? Besides, you just said 'anybody' instead of 'anything', so it has to be a somebody."

Without any warning whatsoever, Belle let go of the arm that Lucien had draped over her shoulder and stepped away from him. Taken totally by surprise Lucien simply collapsed to the floor- landing on his injured leg in the process. He hissed through clenched teeth, and stared narrowly at Belladonna. Belladonna stared back. White was showing all the way around the iris of her eye.

"Dere's nothing okay? I'm not running away from anything. I just have to get out of dis place. Out of dis Guild. I just want my own life and dere is nothing I'm running away from! I'm not a coward! I'm an Assassin! I never run away! And if you ever say that I do, I'll leave you t'rot here-" she pulled a sharp little dagger from a wrist sheath, and Lucien noted that it had 'The Inhumer' engraved on the blade "- after I cut your t'ieving throat! Is dat clear?"

Lucein gazed at her a moment with a totally expressionless gaze. Then he shrugged. "Fine," he said casually.

Belle looked at him for a moment, staring at his face, searching for any sign that he was mocking her, anything that would give her an excuse to kill him. There was nothing. She put her 'Inhumer' dagger away, and turned her back to him, rubbing her hand over her face convulsively. Lucien was silent. "Are you ready?" She said coldly without turning around.

"Oui."

Belle turned back around and stepped over to him, and bent down to pick him up. "Come on," she grunted, "there's a lot of ground to cover. Are you sure we're takin' de right way out?'

"Oui," said Lucien again.

And there was really nothing more to say. So leaning on one another, they started to stagger through the tunnel once again.

After several more rest breaks Belladonna and Lucien had reached the point in the tunnels where the enchantment on the stones, and hence the glow, began to fade. Last time Lucien had thought to bring a penlight to shed some light on the subject, but this time they had nothing by way of illumination. Belle stood at the end of the white glow, trying to peer into the darkness ahead- without much success. The stones were rough under her feet, and she knew that beyond them was a stretch of unpaved tunnel with the floor consisting of nothing but thick, noxious, bayou mud. Not pleasant stuff to limp through blind and carrying somebody else. She turned around and regarded Lucien, who was sitting on the floor behind her, injured leg stretched out in front of him. The odd thing about the wound was that despite the fact that it was very deep and went past at least one major artery, after the initial gush of blood it did not bleed. Come to think of it, all of Lucien's multiple cuts acted in the same manner. Belle idly wondered whether it had anything to do with his burns; perhaps whatever had caused the burns had also cauterised the cuts. Lucien caught her gaze and returned it with a questioning noise in the back of his throat.

"I was thinking," said Belle, "that it's going to be very difficult to go down these tunnels blind especially since I can barely walk, let alone carry you at the same time. I mean, if I was by myself I could move slowly and feel my way out. I can't do that with you hanging off my shoulder."

Lucien arched one perfect eyebrow. "Are you going t' leave me here den?"

He stretched his torso, hands above his head. He looked like something out of a calendar, one that's full of sexy, naked men and has a title like 'Manpower', or 'Gorgeous Men all Year' or even 'Hubba! Hubba! Hubba!' He smiled, touching his tongue to his top lip in a way that would make immediately bump PG rated film up to MA rating. Belle gaped at him, then shut her mouth with a snap. Broadly speaking, Belladonna was no innocent. She knew seduction when she saw it. She certainly wouldn't mind being seduced by Lucien- just any place but here. Maybe somewhere with candlelight, a white tablecloth …slinky red dresses and black tuxedos…oysters…the Kama Sutra…not a place with sorcerous stones, multiple injuries and two broken toes!

If it weren't for said toes Belle would have kicked him. As it was, she settled for pulling a small throwing dart out of her sleave and throwing it at his head. He threw himself sideways to avoid it and it hit the stones behind him hard enough to strike sparks. He gaped at her, blinking his eyes in surprise. Belle felt a surge of disappointment mixing with her anger. Like all other blokes his age he's convinced dat he's so sexy every girl would want him. Guess he's not that different after all.

Damn.

"Do ya t'ink I'm some kind of heartless bitch?" She yelled out loud. "Jus' 'cause I kill for money doesn't mean I'm a whore! It doesn't mean dat I'm easy! How dare you try to seduce me! You don't have to sleep wit' me to get me to help you!" Then, a nod to tradition: "What kind of girl do ya t'ink I am?"

Lucien made movements with his mouth, but only whimpering sounds came out. Usually, they always fell for the don't-you-think-I'm-sexy routine. It's always painful to have one of your self-illusions shattered. He tried desperately to rally his defences, to laugh it off. He quickly put on his best smile.

"C'mon now," he crooned, "I was only joking, chere, honest. I knew that you wouldn't leave me."

"Oh, wouldn't I just?"

Whoops, wrong thing to say, thought Lucien. "Come now chere, you wouldn't leave me," he said lightly, putting on his most charming smile, "you're not dat heartless, surely! Such a beautiful girl couldn't be so cold."

"Beautiful? Really? An' here I thought I looked like a weed…"

Dis is not going well. "I was just teasing, chere, honest!"

"Somebody told me dat de Antiquary's Favourite didn't know how to tease. And if ya call me 'chere' again, I'll throw another dart at ya. An' dis time I wouldn't miss."

Oh, please Belle, I'm sorry, I really am. "I can tease. I can joke. I really can. Dat's what I was doing. I was joking. Don't leave me. You can't."

"Wanna bet?"

I need you. Please help me. He tried to rally himself the only way he knew how. He turned the wattage up on his smile and settled his limbs in a posture that made the best of his aesthetically pleasing (although damaged) body. His hand accidentally brushed his clothing, and Belle, always sensitive to the prospect of hidden weapons, jumped back with her 'Inhumer' dagger magically appearing in her hand.

"Are you going to attack me now? Are we going to fight?" she asked incredulously, backing away.

"No! Of course not! Belladonna, please calm down. Dis is all a misunderstanding!" Nightshade, don't leave me! The thought was nearly inarticulate in the fog of fear and desperation that was filling Lucien's mind.

"Really?"

"Oui!"

Belladonna looked into his glowing eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

"I don't believe you, she said, coldly. "You knew exactly what you were trying to do." And with that, she turned on her heel and began to limp down the corridor.

Lucien was, quite literally, gob smacked. He had spent all of his life being trained to please, to charm, and here he was failing to seduce a mere girl! (The fact that she was barely a month younger than he slipped by him.) All of a sudden his fear evaporated in a hot rush of anger. Rage at his rejection burned, and it reached up and took control of his mouth, and behind it all he was just dimly aware that he was about to say some things that were really dumb.

"Fine!" he shouted. "Leave! You really are a heartless murderer after all! Just like the rest of your vicious Guild!"

Belladonna flinched, but kept on determinedly staggering down the tunnel.

"Hey Belle, I lied when I said you didn't look like a weed! Because you do look like a weed! Skinny and crooked and ugly! Straight up, straight down! You have small tits!"

Well, dat's de way it is when you have breasts, thought Belladonna, trying to be philosophical. You have breasts and people insult dem. You have big breasts and people insult dem. You have small breasts and people still insult dem. Dat's de way Western society is built.

"You need to get your hair done chere," yelled Lucien, "blonde's good, but your particular shade looks like you're wearing a straw wig! On second thoughts, keep it de way it is; you're so stupid it suits you. Hey, dumb blonde, what sort of music do you have in your walkman when you exercise? Is it de type dat goes 'breathe in, breathe out' so you don't forget?"

I hate blonde jokes, snarled Belle in the private recesses of her mind. I really, really hate blonde jokes. She gritted her teeth and took another few painful steps.

"Call yourself an Assassin, Belladonna? I don't believe dat you are. I t'ink dat you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, and you're running away ta prove it."

That did it.

Belle turned around. Slowly.

"I beg your pardon?" She purred, smiling coldly.

Lucien smirked in triumph. "You heard me! I said you couldn't fight. An' I'll bet dat you couldn't fight me, even though I'm hurt right now. An' you know why? 'Cause you're weak. You're a dumb blonde. You're a girl."

Belle took a small step towards him. "I'm not weak," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm not a dumb blonde. And I may be a girl but I can flog de shit out of you any time I want to."

Lucien dragged himself to his feet and stood there swaying. "Prove it," he sneered.

Belle gazed at him, her face expressionless and white. "I can prove it," she whispered.

"Can you?"

"I can prove it," she said again. "I can prove it by leaving you here t'rot." And with that she smiled, turned and resumed her hobbling progress down the tunnel.

"Belle?" whispered Lucien. Dat's it. She's really leaving. "Belle!" he raised his voice again. "Belle, please! Don't leave!"

"Make me," she crowed over her shoulder.

"Belle, stay with me! Please! I'm begging you!"

She laughed and walked on. His pleas were music to her ears… she was so pleased with herself that she didn't notice the faint tingle down her spine that usually occurred in the presence of magic.

Another painful step forward…

Thunk.

Crrr-unch.

A wall appeared suddenly out of mid air, and she walked straight into it- and broke her nose. As she clutched at the offended appendage and blood ran down her hand, she heard a voice that turned her muscles to jelly. A voice that was smooth and rich and coloured like a piece of polished, red mahogany centuries old.

"Well now," it purred. "What do we have here?"

 

GambitGuild is neither an official fansite of nor affiliated with Marvel Enterprises, Inc.
Nonetheless, we do acknowledge our debt to them for creating such a wonderful character and would not dream of making any profit from him other than the enrichment of our imaginations.
X-Men and associated characters and Marvel images are © Marvel Enterprises, Inc.
The GambitGuild site itself is © 2006 - 2007; other elements may have copyrights held by their respective owners.