Pacis of Animus

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Underworld! This fic contains a few lines from the movie, and I don’t own them either…

The armory always seemed cold and unfriendly, even to Khan, when no one else was there. The many different guns lined the walls alongside armor, coms. The cameras, bombs and other more expensive equipment were all locked away in the huge steel case by his desk. While the Death Dealers were away and the rest having their fun, he was the only one there.

There had been too much going on. Selene claimed to have found a den, and even though it seemed unlikely and Soren had returned with no evidence of its existence, there was also a creeping sensation in his spine that told him she was right. Amelia was taking far too long to arrive, he thought. Kraven was having suspicious meetings outside the building and Michael, the human- possibly the new Lycan- had run off. The lights had gone out as well, with the alarm sounding, but they had been recovered and he’s sent a team out to make sure the fence was secure. He shouldered his gun and left the cold dark of the armory to meet with Mason, his lieutenant.

“Any luck?” Khan asked when he met the team in the dark, luscious hallways of the mansion.

“False alarm. The dogs would have been all over it if anything had gotten near that fence,” Mason said lowly. Khan thought for a moment.

“Amelia should’ve arrived by now,” he murmured.

“Yes,” nodded Mason.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice even further. “I want you to slip off the property and find out what’s keeping her,”

“You’ve got it,” Mason said, nodding and returning to his team to give the orders. Khan felt worried and agitated. He went to his quarters and sat on the rich creamy sheets of the mahogany bed, the dark Victorian Gothic style of the furniture contrasting so starkly with the grey and white walls of his beloved armory. He put his gun on a red-velvet upholstered chair and took off his long cloak to drape it over the chair as well. He collapsed on the bed, trying not to think.

Always when he did this, the same face reappeared in his mind, the same pale skin and dark short hair. He angrily banished the thoughts.

What am I afraid of?

As he lay there, gazing at the ceiling and waiting for the blip in his com link that would signal Mason’s report on Amelia, he wondered what he was afraid of.

I’m here to protect her- and the rest of the coven. So why did he block out the thoughts so often?

Not to mention, she loves that Michael. Erica said so, the way she looked at him and cared for him before he buggered off. Why the hell should he trust Erica anyway? All she was really concerned with was Kraven. Selene, she was good for the coven, did her job well, almost too well-

He realized with a pang that this was why he admired her. She was a perfect shot, swift and agile, and rarely ever lost her Lycan targets before killing them, or at least maiming them. You love her because she’s better than you.

He grimaced and fought this voice that crept into his head, pushing at his denial. I do NOT love her.

You do.

He let out an angry roar and rent at the headboard of the bed, tearing it into splinters and shards of wood. Where was this voice coming from? He stood, heaving in his breaths but otherwise still, the pieces of the headboard lying around him on the sheets, the rest of the bed, the floor. For what felt like along time but also no time at all, he stood there. A tiny, creeping, frightening thought was coming to him.

You’re going to die before she even knows. It’s not important. Just protect her. He stared at the blackness outside the window that was sullied only by the lights of the streetlamps. The sinister thought had not so much made him panicked as calmed him further. The voice, the thought, the intuition, kept speaking.

You are going to die. Soon. All that matters, if you do love her, is that you protect her with your life. He pushed this thought away, angry again at its mention of the thing he was determined not to feel for Selene. She loved the stupid Lycan.

He collapsed onto the bed yet again, ignoring the itch of the splinters of wood on his back. He was very still and very quiet for a long, long time. He did not think of anything at all, pushing away the visions of her face as they threatened to break his peace.

This isn’t peace, he thought. One day he would find real peace but this was not it.

His com blipped, and it startled him so that he leapt off the ruined bed and grabbed his earpiece. Someone else had got the phone first.

“I need to speak with Khan,” said Mason’s voice shakily. The com blipped again, put through to his own link.

“Yeah?” he asked, anxious.

“Amelia’s dead,” Mason said, sounding as appalled as Khan felt. “And the rest of her entourage,”

“By who?”

“Lycans,”

“Fucking figures,” he growled. “Can she be restored?”

“I don’t think so. There’s no blood left unless it’s dried onto her skin. Also, I got a report from the people back at the mansion, and Selene is back with a Lycan hostage,” Mollified and strangely angry, he nearly shouted back into the comlink.

“Get back to the mansion. We have to alert Viktor,” He turned the cursed thing off. If he had not been a vampire, his face would have been red in rage. He put on his cloak again and shouldered the gun, loaded with silver nitrate rounds. He knew they were going to have to find the Lycan den- which must exist, if there had been enough of them to kill Amelia and all of her company. No doubt Selene would go with them, to find the other one, Michael.

As his fingers touched the doorknob, the voice sprang back into his head.

It does not matter if you die, so long as you protect her. A wave of peace washed over him. Suddenly calm and resigned, he pulled the door open and disappeared down the hallway.