This week, my series Scent of a Wolf continues. As you'll recall, Cameron wasn't exactly taken with Jareth's olfactory fascination and fled the scene - but to what? I used "We've come so far", "I think/feel I'm entitled to your body..." and all three of Ryssa's prompts. Don't forget to check out all the Silver Flashers whose links appear at the end of this post!
Seeker Harcourt was a collector extraordinaire. He collected anything and everything that he deemed worthwhile having. The most unique items that this world had to offer were the things he wanted the most. He desired them, he hungered for them, and he made sure that he got them. Or if he could not have them, then he made sure that no one else did.
The destruction of an object of value to prevent its falling into the hands of a competitor was inconsequential to him. He’d proven that before, many times.
Seeker’s brownstone row house, although attractive enough on the outside, did not begin to reflect the wealth which had been amassed and was flagrantly displayed within. Not everything he owned was contained within these three floors. He rented storage units at various points throughout the city, locations known only to himself and select associates. He rotated his collection on a fairly regular basis. Most people would be surprised if they knew just what sorts of things he possessed.
Some were very high profile, and instantly recognizable, but the world was unaware that he held the original, for Seeker had access to people who could produce undetectable fakes. Others were simply illegal in just about everyone’s eyes. He valued those the most.
A female peregrine falcon sat upon Seeker’s gloved arm. He’d always favored peregrines for reasons best known to himself. She was held by a short tether, only going where he wished her to go. She slept in a gilded cage in his bedroom. Turning to the two men who stood within his drawing room, he noticed the shorter one, Rutledge, twitch, while the other one, the weasel-like Chambers, positively bristled. But to give the devils their due, they remained relatively calm in his presence, considering. Amazing, the power which money exerted over the little people. It helped them suppress their natural instincts. It also made them hungry for more.
“Ah gentlemen,” he said, “we’ve come so far together, haven’t we? I do appreciate the diligence with which you have applied yourself on my behalf.” His glance fell upon the inert form on the brocade chaise lounge beside him. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the intoxicating scent; it stole through his very limbs, producing a serious spike in his blood pressure—not to mention within his expensive trousers.
“It wasn’t easy,” Chambers spoke up. “We went to quite a bit of trouble to acquire this one for you, Seeker.
Especially with those two—“
“No trouble is too much to be borne for you,” Rutledge smoothly interrupted. Not smoothly enough., however. Seeker narrowed his eyes at them both.
“You mentioned no such difficulty when we spoke. What was the cause?”
“There were two other men who were after him,” Rutledge reluctantly admitted. “But we shook them off and acquired him for you, as we said we would. Gave us quite a chase, he did.”
“I’m not surprised.” Seeker turned his dark eyes upon the slumbering man once more, his own breathing coming quicker. With difficulty, he maintained his normally stoic control. “Do you know who they were?” he asked.
“No,” Rutledge cut off whatever reply Chambers had been about to make, drawing one finger across his throat as a warning. “But we shall make inquiries for you.”
“Yes, do that.” He waved them off, never turning. “See yourselves out.”
They bowed briefly, before Rutledge gripped Chamber’s arm within his claw-like grasp and propelled him out of the room and from the building.
Seeker stepped closer to the redhead. The falcon stirred, ruffling her feathers. He set her on her perch, before kneeling beside the sleeping form. “I’ve waited a very long time for you,” he whispered. “At the least, I’m entitled to your body… If not your very soul…”
Cameron exhaled softly in his sleep, but never wakened.
Jareth had become almost frantic after Cameron had given him and Shaw the slip at the used book shop. They’d hastened after him, followed the trail while they could, but all that gained them was a knitting needle in the side, from an old lady whom Jareth had sniffed at—thinking he detected the redhead’s scent upon her—and a face full of yellow paint which had dripped upon him when he’d upset a ladder. A painter had been standing on it, hard at work, touching up the sign of one of the local retailers. He had a few choice words for Jareth, which Shaw quickly chased away with a bit of currency. Unfortunately, after that the trail had been lost. They could not find him, as if he’d been swallowed into the very earth. It was with some difficulty that Shaw calmed Jareth down enough to get him to return to Stolen Hours. Only the idea that perhaps Eddie and/or Oliver had seen something was sufficient for Jareth to give up the chase, even momentarily.
“Sure, I saw them come in,” Eddie admitted, leaning over the counter, keeping his voice low in deference to the readers in the shop. “They went out again right away, but I recognized them, knew they was up to no good. It was written all over them.”
“Who was it?” Shaw Cross was almost afraid to ask.
“Rutledge and Chambers. I’d know those two anywhere.”
“Thanks, Eddie,” Shaw said, sneaking a glance at Jareth. His face remained impassive, but Shaw knew him too well not to realize he was livid. They exited the shop. The drizzle had stopped completely, but it had left behind a singular wetness over everything.
“You should probably clean up,” he advised Jareth. The paint on his cheek had somehow settled itself into the form of a question mark. He refrained from laughing at the comical sight, realizing this was not the time or place.
As if he hadn’t heard, Jareth regarded Shaw, before finally saying, “I’m going to take my motorcycle out, Shaw.”
The other man groaned. Somehow he should have seen this coming and tried to forestall it.
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