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Shadow of Life

By

Dustin Feyder

Commission by

Keys Spider Queen

A man stands at a window tented blue black looking down from a tall tower onto the heavenly hell of the modern world. He stands in the dark, dressed in the most stylish suit on the market, a single lamp sits on a table behind him. The door opens behind him allowing in only the scantest of light from the hallway. An elderly man walks, he has a full salt and pepper beard, dressed in a green blazer, and tans slacks, he walks with a cane a book under his arm.

The suited man curls his lip slightly pained by the light coming in from the hallway. "Please close the door." He ask. The door is shut and the room is darkened once more. "Mr. Dove I presume?"

The bearded man replies in a hefty New Yorker voice "yes, I am Joe Dove."

The suited man without looking back explains "the brand on your left-hand marks you as being the property of the von Richton society."

Joe Dove nods again "good guess."

"no guesswork needed. I have seen many of you around since the 1800's. I trust you know already why I wanted to see you."

Dove places his book on the table and produces a pin from his pocket. "then how about we get to work."

The suited man sighs "yes. We should. Where should we start? My name perhaps? I was born as Claude Druand ..."

Joe starts writing looking up briefly "You are a Gaiadren?"

"Lycon, Vession, Blutbogg. I have had all these names used to describe me. I would like to not bother with such titles. Use whichever word you feel most comfortable with. The year was 1750, Dysentery has yet to reach France shores, Luis the 15th is the longest sitting king in living history, and the disparity of wealth between the rich and the pore has never been greater."

"I was born to an aristocratic family, elevated to our level more by king Luis lust then by our own merit, but that his hardly important. Luis the 15thhad 2000 sons and 6000 slaves some people clamed. Across the French kingdom ballrooms have become centers of governances. A man like me could dance and make marry with the elitist of the land and even influences public policies"

Joe interrupts "you are a werewolf? Does that mean that your mother was a werewolf as well?"

Claude nods "of course. In the 16th and 17th century in France werebeast could walk around in the open freely, unlike today where we have to hide under cover of night. In fact, in the flesh trade werebeast women were coveted. It turns out that randy businessmen at the time found beastmen to make fine chambermaids. My birth was somewhat of a surprise all though, a vession giving birth with a nonvession partner is uncommon."

Joe looks up from his writing again "vession can take lots of shapes, lizards, cats, dogs, birds. Are you all cross fertile with each other?"

"as far as I know. It seems that we are capable if sireing families with almost any man, beast, or lycon we like."

Joe nods "alright."

"but I am no expert on vession history or culture. I have almost always been an island onto myself. I am a historian of only one thing, and that is myself. I should be happy to tell you that story if that should pleasure you."

Joe wave Claude on "please go ahead."

***

Claude is a wealthy man, he has danced at dozens of balls and has friends in every influential house in France, even though he is narrowly over fifteen he is a man of prestige, he has given his life to working clay, his statuettes decorate the houses of many noble ladies. To spite having the finest clothing and living in the lap of luxury from time to time Claude still feels a burning need to walk the streets of the slums and partake of the wine and women and dancing of the lower class.

This month Claude has made a dozen trips into town, today for something more than just drinking and dancing. On his last trip, in a brothel, he spotted something that drew his eye. A squirrel women, a year or two younger then him with fiery hair, long limbs and acrobatic features, her childish shape just starting to give way to show of her womanly form.

Claude had whispered around the pub looking for the name and nature of the siren squirrel, he learns that her name is Célia Valentine, she was born somewhere in Scandinavia, and that her father had been a fur trader before moving to France. Some bad run of luck had robbed the Valentine's of their fortune and now the lot of them are stranded with little money and a practice with limited market value.

Claude soul is filled with needing, Celia has enchanted Claude, he wants her, he will have her. Night after night Claude sneaks away from his home after sunset to seek out his enchantresses. She is a playful girl, she dances with sheep one stage one night, she plays a drinking game the next, and plays a card game the night after that. It is the third night that Claude finely sits down to make his precens known.

Slipping in and out of a crowed is a skill every good nobleman has, Claude knocks on the card table to get himself shuffled in. Card games are something Claude has little experiences with but sitting and watching from afar he has come to understand the basics of the game they are playing.

The game they are gambling on today is called 'Hanging Man' all numbered cards have face value, at the end of the game you get scored on how many cards of the same suit you are holding and deducted a value for each card of the wrong suit, a Jake always cost you two points if in your hand, a queen loses you five, a black king ten but, red king forces you to discard three non-face cards and recount your score with what is left. You start the game holding five cards and the perfect hand is 5-10 black or red. If two players have the same hand tie goes to black. After wagering your first bet you may discard up to four cards and be dealt the same number.

As a gambler, Claude is both a high roller and awful, placing a comparatively large amount of coin on the table with each hand. Early in the game he represents himself as a 'good times Charlie' offering to pay of a bottle of wine to pass around the table and some dinner rolls. Celia takes interest in him immediately. Even if Celia doesn't know who Claude is she can guess where is he from. Celia takes notice of Claude mannerisms and elegances. He is no urchin, that much is clear.

Any girl in Celia's possession would of course be opportunistic, after only a few hands of cards Celia deduces that she wants to get closer to Claude, she wants to taunt him and tease him, provoke him and seduce him but most impotently leave an impression, get him coming back for more. Even living in France Celia has the noteworthy advantage of being a Swede, she knows how to act meek when it is to her pleasure but she also know that it catches Frenchmen off guard when she shows her Nordic half and chooses to act dominatingly.

'Surly this is to be a fun relationship.' Celia thinks, 'though I be pray, even mice in the northland have been known to walk toe to toe with cat. Besides, this French folk are well known for being Nancie's.'

three bottles of wine later Claude hits a hot streak managing to win three hands in a row and get back most of his coin. A musketeer that had stopped for a cheap drink and cheap entertainment grows annoyed with Claude, he draws the arquebus from his belt and threatens the aristocrat. Claude lacks a level of street smarts that would allow him to defuse the situation resorting instead standing up to the musketeer bearing his fangs.

Celia on the other hand has a much more elegant idea. She slaps another cardplayer with the basket they had been eating bread from inspiring a brawl to commences. In the ensuing confusion, Celia grapples with Claude forcing him out the side door and onto the side-streets around the port.

"If ya' wish to live long enough to see your hair gray I suggest not talkin' to nobles thata' way." Celia playfully shoves Claude.

Claude falls back against the side of a building, with a childish grin he exspresses "He wouldn't have ..."

Celia slaps Claude "he most certainly would. I have seen that man shoot a women in the street for coughing!" Celia points "you get wise, you fallow me around."

"strong and clever. Is there anything you are not?" Claude smiles arrogantly "I fine prize to be had." He grips Celia by the arms, his head tips his eyes narrow threating to kiss the squirrel.

Celia hooks her arms outwards to brake Claude's grip then she thrust her arms into his chest throwing him at the wall. Celia's hands find the cuffs of Claude's shirt holding him up. "if there is to be any of that. I'll be the one on top if ya' don't mind." Celia offers a kiss.