A Pale Shade of Night

A Pale Shade of Night

Chapter 9: Meeting Malfoy Senior, A Death Eater Meeting, and Pondering Meeting the Future

Surprisingly, the Dark Lord's anger did not last long, or at least that was the way it appeared. His time was increasingly occupied by running his war, and he seemed relatively satisfied with Arcana as long as she brought him souls for his experimentation and continued searching for leads to the demon knowledge and the immortality he craved.

"Come here, hunter." The Dark Lord, situated in front of the fire as always, curled his fingers, beckoning the exhausted Arcana to join him.

Arcana sighed and then obeyed, abandoning an ancient North African engraving she had been struggling to decipher. Earlier, when she had returned from a long and trying hunt, the Dark Lord had immediately put her to work, denying her the rest she needed by summoning her with a searing Dark Mark. Recently, whenever she wasn't hunting, the Dark Lord had her pouring over tall stacks of fae and wizarding books, scrolls and every other form of recorded knowledge - some of which he had obviously gone to great lengths to acquire. He expected progress, and the research was going very slowly.

Chill tendrils sought entry to Arcana's mind. Whispers called to her to kneel, the force behind them quiet and seductive, promising solace. She brushed it all aside, curious about the Dark Lord's change in strategy.

"You need rest, my fae," the Dark Lord hissed softly, no evidence of his thwarted mind games on his white face. "Yet you do not ask for it." He glanced away, concentrating, and a chair appeared, transported from another room. "Sit," he ordered.

Arcana bit back an argument that she needed to finish her work, and sat. She tucked her feet under herself to keep them warm and adjusted her long robes, using the fidgeting to hide her irritation. If the Dark Lord had known she was tired, he should not have summoned her. "The hunt has been more trying these last weeks, my lord. It is only that, the shifting of the fates."

"Ah yes. Those 'fates' that you always speak of," the Dark Lord trailed off, seemingly satisfied with the Arcana's explanation. He went back to scrawling in a book propped on his knee. The warmth and gentle crackling of the fire lulled Arcana's aching head, and her eyelids slid shut.

An urgent knock on the door startled Arcana awake. She swept the sleep from her eyes, annoyed that she had actually fallen asleep next to the Dark Lord, who was no longer in his chair, and that alertness was not returning as quickly as it should.

"My lord," came the breathless voice of Lucius Malfoy. He was near the door, kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet, valiantly trying to catch his breath. "Forgive the interruption, but you wished to know as soon as it was over."

"Yes, Lucius, I remember my own orders," the Dark Lord hissed. He was not pleased with Lucius' part in the debacle at the Ministry of Magic in June, or with having to pull his half dead corpse out of Azkaban. Of course, that was on top of fact that the Death Eater had made no attempt to find the Dark Lord when he fell into shadow.

"All were successful. There were no casualties," he reported calmly without cringing at the Dark Lord's displeasure. Lucius still had his pride. "Rudolphus is cleaning up a few loose ends, and Rookwood is holding the necessary Ministry officials under Imperius."

"Very good, Lucius. Avery is in place to Obliviate them when their roles are over?"

"Yes, my lord. All is set."

Arcana watched them, silent and still, taking it all in. While it wasn't her war, it was good to be aware of what was happening, and Lucius was hiding something. She could see it in his eyes.

"Narcissa was there," the Dark Lord spoke knowingly. Lucius did flinch this time, rightfully fearing the ease with which the Dark Lord perused his thoughts.

"Yes, my lord," Lucius answered the non-question nervously, "but she Disapparated immediately with most everyone else when she realized what was happening."

"You miss her, Lucius," the Dark Lord cruelly mocked.

Lucius was silent for a moment. "She is a good wife, my lord, but I do not need her when in your service." Arcana cringed, plainly hearing the hopeful lie.

"You know you cannot lie to me, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed.

"Forgive me, my lord," Lucius half sighed, having no energy to deny his actions. Though his imprisonment within Azkaban was short, it had changed him, and he would not be unchanged, even by Arcana's healing hand. The Dark Lord did not like the change.

"Hunter," the Dark Lord called. Arcana stepped into view, ignoring Lucius' surprised stare. Disgust flashed across his face briefly before he schooled his expression again.

"You said he was healed."

"I repaired the damage, my lord," Arcana replied calmly.

The Dark Lord sneered at her. "Stand up, Lucius."

Lucius stood, bone white mask still in one hand.

"Look again, Arcana," the Dark Lord ordered. She frowned, but did as she was commanded. It stung enough to have to perform delicate magic at the Dark Lord's whim. When it involved the Death Eaters, especially those that had aided in her capture, it was all she could do not to twist their innards into pretzels. At least he would be on his best behavior with the Dark Lord watching.

Lucius looked down at her coldly, but without the entrenched malice she felt from Bellatrix Lestrange. Arcana closed her eyes, letting her emotions go, and shifted her consciousness. She looked into the human soul before her, seeing her repair work had healed over well. There was nothing wrong.

She shifted back to normal consciousness. "There is nothing wrong with him, my lord," she reaffirmed while still looking at the elder Malfoy, who was struggling to keep his haughty mask in place. There was a fae taint in his line. It was very distant and faint, but it was there, and he knew that she could see it.

"In that case, make yourself useful, Lucius," the Dark Lord dismissed the Death Eater. Lucius would face the Dark Lord's wrath if his work was not satisfactory this time. "Keep Bella from killing any of the valuable prisoners. She does so enjoy her work. If they know something, bring them to the meeting. I will question them personally."

"As you wish, my lord." Lucius bowed and left.

That the Dark Lord was holding a meeting was not what Arcana wanted to hear. Even more foul witches and wizards would be about the fortress, disrupting her peace and quiet.

"You will be there, of course, hunter," the Dark Lord said firmly, taking note of Arcana's frown. She hated those meetings. "Sulk in the shadows if you wish."

"I will then, my lord." Arcana bowed her head.

*** *** ***

At the appointed time, Arcana's Dark Mark burned, and she nearly dropped the crystal vial she had just crafted. She gently set it down with the others, and then pushed up her sleeve and grimly watched as the Mark blackened her pale skin. With a sigh, she donned her elbow-length, black leather gloves. The left glove slipped down, and she spitefully tugged it back up, sneering at the place the Mark lay as the last of her marred skin vanished beneath the leather. After pulling the hood of her black cloak low over her eyes and whispering a charm to keep her face in shadow, she left her sanctuary within the serpent's den.

The few Death Eaters residing in the castle had already arrived when Arcana reached the hall where the Dark Lord conducted his meetings, probably Apparating instead of walking as she preferred. They mingled, whispering softly, and glanced at Arcana with their masked faces as she strode past them into a shadowed corner. She settled in, hopefully for the duration of the meeting, leaning against the cold stone wall.

The hall was one of the largest in the castle. The high, elaborately carved ceiling arched up into the shadows, supported by elegant columns that were also covered in carvings. Most of the designs were magical, including complex rune sequences that spiraled into the darkness. The runes almost shimmered with power as watchful dark green stone snakes slithered past. Some of the symbols, mostly those integral to the original concealing spells cast on the fortress and valley, shifted continuously in response to magical changes in the surrounding land and the nearby ley line. Small antique oil lamps floated in the air, illuminating a corridor through the middle of the hall and the Dark Lord's empty throne at the far end.

More Death Eaters appeared, Apparating to the call of the Dark Mark. They slowly moved into a semicircle about the empty throne. When all the Death Eaters were present, save one, the Dark Lord entered through a side door, followed by the ever-fearful and sniveling Wormtail.

The Dark Lord looked about the room, surveying his servants and catching Arcana's eye as he passed. The shadowed hood hid nothing from his vision. She gave him a slight bow, keeping with the formalities since so many sharp eyes were watching. Wormtail took the empty place in the semi-circle, and the Dark Lord sat regally in his throne. The Death Eaters all knelt, and then one by one they crawled up to the Dark Lord, reverently kissed the hem of his robes, and returned to their spots.

"Welcome all, my family," the Dark Lord greeted his servants, his high, cold voice making it sound more like a threat. "We have much to do tonight. News from my spies, plans to discuss," he said, smiling viciously, "victories to celebrate and," he paused, looking at each witch and wizard before him and hissed, "failures to punish." A collective shudder went through the Death Eater ranks.

"But first, rise, and we will see the fruits of your recent labor." The Death Eaters stood, their anticipation tainting the air. Some wanted information. Most wanted to see blood shed. "Bella, go fetch the interesting ones."

"It will be but a moment, my lord." Bellatrix Lestrange bowed to the Dark Lord. In the witch's voice Arcana could hear the chill smile that was hidden under the mask. The eager witch strode out quickly, her black robes billowing out behind her.

As neither the Dark Lord nor the Death Eaters considered Arcana part of the inner circle, she never stood with them. Instead, she usually observed from beyond their gathering and participated only when ordered. It was better this way, since she refused to bow and scrape before the Dark Lord or kiss the hem of his robes, the thought of which made her stomach turn. The Dark Lord had expressed interest in having Arcana kneel at his feet during meetings like the pet he portrayed her as, but her refusal had been quite vehement, and, wanting his next delivery of souls, he had decided it was not worth pushing the matter for the time being. He would bring it up again eventually of course, as he would never admit defeat on a single facet of their power play. This choreographed give and take was all part of his plans. Angering the Dark Lord enough to incite his dangerous rage--

Arcana frowned, cutting off her ruminations. Now was not the time.

Bellatrix returned with the three doomed prisoners floating behind her, as if hanging from puppet strings. Two were Aurors, judging by their robes, and one looked like a civilian. Bellatrix waved her wand at the prisoners, causing them to fall to their knees before the Dark Lord, in parody of the Death Eaters' routine groveling, gaining a dry smile from her lord.

"Bella, always the one to entertain," he indulged his old apprentice. She bowed, pleased with providing him with a moment of amusement, and then returned to her place. The excitement that was radiating off her was like heat waves off a rock in the summer sun, and nearly as strong as the terror Arcana sensed in the prisoners.

They had already been tortured, broken by the Death Eaters, but only the Dark Lord could tear every last shred of information from their minds. Arcana supposed it was a disturbing sight, but she felt nothing for the condemned wizards and witch at the Dark Lord's feet, just as it should be. Emotions only clouded her focus.

The Dark Lord scanned the prisoners with his piercing crimson gaze. "You." He waved his wand at the Auror in the middle, who rose from the floor to hang before the Dark Lord like a broken puppet. "Tell Lord Voldemort," he hissed coldly. "Tell me everything."

Arcana shuddered involuntarily at the power the Dark Lord wielded. Without verbally casting the Legilimens spell, he entered the Auror's mind and rifled through everything. The absolute control he displayed was far more disturbing to her than the sight of his trembling prisoners. He was focused wholly on the task at hand, supreme concentration etched on his face. Arcana was thankful that he had not turned such attention on her since June, and she hoped it would never happen again.

The wizard in the Dark Lord's grasp suddenly fell to the floor with a sickening thud and lay there twitching, lacking the mental capacity to do anything else.

"Most interesting." The Dark Lord looked to the next Auror with that same focused gaze. He was not playing to his Death Eater crowd this night. Those that had been near the Dark Lord long enough knew that while his cruel entertainment was unsettling, he was at his most dangerous when like this.

"Next, you." He lifted the second Auror into the air and proceeded to do exactly the same thing. Another sickening thud sounded in the hall as the Auror, now a useless lump of flesh, fell to the floor.

The Dark Lord regarded his Death Eaters, who were standing very still, rapt with what they had just witnessed. More than one of them feared one day they would share the fate of the brain dead Aurors.

"Again, most interesting, my Death Eaters. Most interesting." The Dark Lord was silent for a moment, processing his newfound information. "One item will be added to tonight's agenda." Arcana could sense a dull mixture of anger and amusement through her bond to the wizard, but it faded quickly as his steel will suppressed the emotions.

Arcana felt a sudden rush of magic from near the center of the hall - Portkeys she realized. The fortress' wards pulled and shifted to allow the intrusion, and suddenly several dozen robed and hooded wizards knelt where there had been only air moments before. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes and then smiled thinly. These must be his newest recruits, Arcana reasoned - those who had not yet proven themselves worthy enough to be branded. A mixture of feelings radiated from the group - fear, excitement, caution, and something else Arcana could not quite determine, which she found curious since it meant that at least one could shield their emotions.

"You have arrived just in time, my new initiates, to witness the power of Lord Voldemort." The Dark Lord lifted the last prisoner without word or gesture. "This fool dared to stand against me. Her fate will be no different from all others that oppose my reign."

Surprisingly, the witch resisted the Dark Lord's Legilimency for an instant, incredible hate and anger giving her one last moment of strength, but then she broke with a low groan of pain, and the Dark Lord began to tear her mind apart. He was taking longer than with the Aurors, and a couple Death Eaters shuffled nervously. Arcana noticed a subtle change in the Dark Lord's expression as his interrogation continued.

The Dark Lord finally dropped the witch, who groaned and wheezed, unable to breath properly any longer. That she had any strength left was enough to make Arcana's warning senses scream. The Death Eaters and recruits were silent, and a chill crept through the hall as the Dark Lord stared into the darkness. He came out of his pensive state and addressed his servants.

"That is a matter that will have to be dealt with," he hissed dangerously, "but not tonight." The witch at his feet groaned louder, apparently still alive despite the trauma. She reached out toward the Dark Lord as if to wandlessly curse him with her last ounce of strength, her face twisted in hate and agony. The Dark Lord sneered and drew his wand. "You have done enough. If your allies are in any way intelligent, your rotting corpse should give them pause. Avada Kedavra."

The green light flashed and the witch moved no more.

"Now that that is settled, my family," the Dark Lord moved on, one more death meaning nothing to him, "I believe Cadhren, though very new to my service, has already made himself quite useful." The barb was meant for those Death Eaters that had proven not so useful in the past, and Arcana was sure they all felt its sting, though none showed it.

The meeting went on far too slowly for Arcana's tastes, though if it had been her decision, she would have been elsewhere, uncaring about how long it was taking. The Dark Lord conducted a short debriefing for the recent operation, but left out many important details that his Death Eaters already knew, since the recruits were not trusted. Throughout the proceedings, Arcana remained shrouded in her shadows, content to be ignored by all present. Not even the Dark Lord glanced her way.

There were the typical Death Eater reports, laced with the same old rhetoric and promises of victory. Then came the recognitions and rewards for accomplishments. In Arcana's mind, these rewards were paltry and could not compensate for the virtual slavery the Death Eaters endured, but humans had a tendency to blind themselves to the truth when it suited them. Lastly, those who had failed in their service were punished. Arcana flinched involuntarily each time the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus Curse. She clenched her jaw in anger at her body's reaction. It refused to forget, a phantom ache returning to her limbs as the wizards writhed and screamed at the Dark Lord's feet.

The waste of time meeting became increasingly irritating as it dragged on. Several Death Eaters were muttering amongst themselves while others screamed under the Dark Lord's spells. She scowled, imagining having that last translation done by now and enjoying a warm cup of tea by her fireplace. Clearly the Dark Lord was getting bored as well and ended the torture of the last failed wizard, Snape. He still wore both mask and hood, but Arcana recognized him easily. The greasy wretch stumbled back to his place in the circle, trembling slightly. The Dark Lord had not given the reason for the torture, and Arcana was slightly curious, since he been pleased with Snape lately.

"That is all I had planned for tonight," the Dark Lord said, his cold voice carrying through the hall like the chill of midwinter, "since your absence cannot be noticed. We must not let any more of you come under suspicion of the Ministry, or the Order." Arcana sensed distinct relief emanating from the witches and wizards who dared to serve the Dark Lord, but that strange, clouded feeling was still there too.

"But something unexpected and unfortunate recently came to light." The red eyes flashed with burning anger and scanned over those gathered before him. His posture and the tilt of his head were those of a snake about to strike.

"A traitor," the Dark Lord hissed. The Death Eaters and recruits mumbled apprehensively, knowing what it meant to betray the Dark Lord.

Suddenly Arcana received a flash of insight from the Dark Lord, pointing out the doomed wizard with one comment attached.

Be quick, but creative.

The Dark Lord deemed this fool unworthy of being killed by his own hand. She was familiar enough with the routine, but hated it all the same; the image that she was at the Dark Lord's beck and call. She sneered, still hidden by the shadows. It was not strictly necessary to obey the order, as it was not covered by her contract, but she always did in the interest of avoiding the Dark Lord's wand. They had an unspoken agreement as to how she behaved in public, in front of his servants, and obedience was key. She was almost glad to be given an outlet for her own buried fury - she had asked for such months ago. It was nearly as good as killing a real Death Eater.

"Hunter," the call came, and Arcana responded immediately, stepping away from the shadowy wall.

All eyes in the hall were on her, and the new recruits started in surprise. She slowly turned to the wizard she would kill, milking the moment for the Dark Lord's benefit, and the fool's eyes went wide in terror. She allowed him a moment to panic, and he turned to run, his fear making the act of murder even sweeter.

Arcana raised one hand and set him ablaze without a word, putting all of her hate, shame, and anger into the magic. He managed one shriek of agony before being utterly consumed. The magical fire burned so hotly that those nearby shied away and shielded their eyes. There were but a few ashes left when the flames died. Arcana lowered her hand and let her power drift back to silence, noting that the cloudy emotion sense had vanished.

"Let that be a warning," the Dark Lord spoke softly. "You have my leave to depart." Arcana stepped back into her shadows.

The recruits bowed, albeit shakily, and then activated their Portkeys. Next, the Death Eaters all knelt once more and proclaimed their loyalty before Disapparating one by one, save those that resided in the fortress who took their leave by foot.

"Crabbe, Goyle," the Dark Lord stalled the two in their footsteps. "Take what remains of the Aurors back to the dungeons. They still have souls, and the dementors are always hungry."

Arcana snarled. There were few things she despised more than those foul abominations.

"And then take this," the Dark Lord commanded, pointing to the witch's corpse, "to the Ministry's doorstep. Though . . ." he paused, and then waved his wand at the body. Skin sizzled. Arcana smelt the burnt flesh and knew what he had done. "Yes, that is better," he said, a grim smile showing through his stony expression.

The two Death Eaters bowed, Levitated the half dead Aurors, and headed for the dungeons.

Arcana turned to go as well, her purpose complete for the evening.

"A moment, hunter," came the cold voice from behind, calling her back.

She turned back again and bowed. "My lord."

"Come here, Arcana, unless the evidence of death makes you squeamish." The Dark Lord's eyes flashed again, but differently. He was fishing for information.

She walked forward cautiously until she stood before the Dark Lord's throne, and then pushed her hood back. "Death is inescapable if you live around humans. Mortality does that," she commented. He hated to be reminded of his own mortality as much as she hated to be reminded of her bondage.

"Do not try my temper tonight, Arcana," the Dark Lord warned. Her Dark Mark seared for a moment, and she relented and bowed again, knowing no verbal comment would help her cause.

"Still," he continued thoughtfully, "the display of elemental magic was a nice change."

"I am glad you approve, my lord. It seemed to fit the occasion."

"Indeed it did." The Dark Lord frowned for a moment and glanced down at the corpse that still lay near his throne. "Did you notice anything," he asked, narrowing his eyes, "out of place?"

"She was not what she appeared, my lord," was the only response Arcana had, "and the one I killed was concealing his emotions."

"Ah, so it was that one. Good, Arcana. Now for the witch," he pondered. "One Margret Almerta Winning. Everything perfectly normal on the surface. I'm surprised that Bella deemed her interesting at all. But all is not what it seems, as you said."

A chime of warning sounded within Arcana's heart. The Dark Lord did not confide in her. He rarely shared his thoughts if they didn't involve his claim of ownership over her.

"Tell me what you know of the Guild and Ferril's Bane," he commanded.

"My lord . . ." Arcana looked down at the witch again, stalling for a moment to gather her thoughts. She examined the body more closely, still seeing nothing remarkable, except for the Dark Mark that the Dark Lord had burned into the dead witch's forehead. If Winning had possessed those connections and yet was still wandering around England, something ugly was brewing. "The Guild, or Summoner's Guild, has been in place for nearly six hundred years--"

"I don't need a history lecture, hunter," the Dark Lord cut her off impatiently. Arcana resisted tossing back a rather rude retort. At least this much had not changed.

"They are still powerful, my lord," Arcana cut to the chase, "and have close ties to the remaining necromancers. Nearly all members support pureblood agendas, as I remember. There are the liches as well, but they rarely involve themselves in politics." She paused, having to think again.

"I have only heard of Ferril's Bane a few times. From what I've gathered, it is the banner that the disenfranchised and ruthless wizards in Eastern Europe have begun to flock to. No cares as to heritage."

The Dark Lord nodded at Arcana's words as if they confirmed his knowledge, and she got the feeling that his war had just become much more complicated. In a way it was a lucky break, since it meant the Dark Lord would not have the luxury of taking time to harass her.

"You may leave me, hunter. I will call you tomorrow to continue the translations."

Arcana fought back a frown and bowed again, wishing she could have finished those already. She wondered if he realized she needed to sleep sometime, fae or not. "I will be ready. Until tomorrow, my lord."

The Dark Lord nodded once more and Arcana walked away, leaving him to brood in the empty hall.

*** *** ***

The night sky was filled with flickering pinpricks of silver light, cradling the thin crescent of the waxing moon. Thin tattered clouds glided across the blackness, briefly shrouding the moon before being carried onward by the winds. Beneath the sky, an old ruined keep overlooked a black loch from atop a small barren hill situated deep within one of the many glacier carved valleys in the Highlands. The dark stone of the ruins stood out starkly against the starlight-bleached heather that clung to the rocky ground. A chill wind rippled the water's surface and caressed Arcana's face. She closed her eyes, longing to spread wings to drift and be carried afar like the clouds, but shapeshifting had never been her forte and was all but impossible in this world.

A strange silence seemed to enshroud the old keep and its former grounds, as if some age-old wards had not yet faded into oblivion, yet there was life. Arcana listened to its whispering song, glad she was not totally alone, perched atop a stone arch. She had needed to get away, if only for a few hours, from what had become more prison than sanctuary. Here, in this remote place, she could relax and think alone.

The Dark Lord's mood had soured of late in response to failures of his forces and counterattacks by the Order of the Phoenix. The Ministry of Magic had found several spies, and the Dark Lord had been forced to scramble so as not to miss valuable information. The capture, interrogation, and subsequent death of Margret Winning had heralded rumors of unrest on the Continent. There were other magical forces on the rise. None had any individuals with such singularly shattering power as the Dark Lord, but the enclaves of strong wizards were immensely powerful in their own right. If he did not consolidate his power in magical Britain soon, he might have to wrest it back from invaders later.

Arcana had never thought too hard on what the Dark Lord's true goals were, what he expected to accomplish with all this manipulation and bloodshed. It had never mattered. He clearly desired power and revenge. That much she had always known. She sensed it radiating off of him the first time they had met on a night much like this one. The end results of his campaign were unclear to her, and she had no delusions that it would be what the Death Eaters were expecting. In the past she had always been able to drift through human history, uninhibited by the consequences of Muggle and wizard strife, but that was no more, like so many other things in her long life.

Being bound to the Dark Lord had also bound her to the fate of the Wizarding, and perhaps Muggle, world. Before being branded, she only had to be cautious and remain hidden during times of strife, though sometimes she had used them to her advantage to stock up on gold. The necessity of money and an economy based on physical goods and services had originally been amusing novelties. Now they were just additional sources of aggravation.

Perhaps if she was lucky, the fates would twist and the Dark Lord would be killed by his foes. Then again, if not, at least Arcana could hope to die with peace in her heart, but that end was still too distant to dwell on. For now she would play her role as soul hunter and magical advisor to keep the Dark Lord appeased. If the Wizarding war began to rage in earnest, as the autumn winds warned, and if it crossed her path, she would meet it head on and remind the fool mortals why the fae were to be feared.

Arcana gazed across the loch and the heather clad slopes, letting her newest worries blow away in the wind. Her old heart yearned for what was lost and called out for her to sing. Sinking into that feeling, she released her clear voice to join the windsong with an ancient and haunting melody, weaving and rising, singing of what had been lost to legend in this ever-changing mortal world. Not even the slight burn of the Dark Mark shook her voice. If the Dark Lord wanted to listen, he would listen. Tonight Arcana would not drown in the wizard's Darkness nor hide her true self.