Corrupted blood lord

Teclos stopped beside the stranger at the bar.

Up close, the man looked even less remarkable. The brown coat was worn at the cuffs, his boots were dusty, and there was nothing about his face that would draw attention in a crowded room.

Only the mana felt wrong.

It sat too quietly.

The mercenary captain hovered several steps behind Teclos, one hand pressed beneath his bleeding nose. His men had managed to drag themselves away from the broken tables, though none seemed eager to approach the bar again.

The stranger lifted his cup.

"You came all this way," he said. "You may as well order something."

Teclos looked at the purse beside his hand.

"Give them their money."

The stranger glanced over his shoulder.

The mercenaries stiffened.

"They lost it."

"They say you cheated."

"They also said I attacked them."

The captain opened his mouth.

Teclos looked back at him.

"You did say that."

The man’s jaw tightened.

"He provoked us."

The stranger took another drink.

"You accused me of cheating, threw the first punch, and pulled knives when that didn’t work."

One of the mercenaries muttered, "You broke Halven’s ribs."

"He swung a chair at me."

The captain stepped closer.

"That doesn’t give you the right to take everything we earned."

The stranger pushed the purse across the bar with one finger.

It stopped near the edge.

"Then take it."

The mercenaries looked at one another.

None moved.

Teclos watched the stranger.

"You’re giving it back?"

"I won the game. The money was mine." He looked at the captain. "Now I’m tired of listening to them complain."

That should have ended it.

The captain reached for the purse.

The stranger did not look at him.

"Not you."

The captain froze.

"You said—"

"I said they could take it."

His gaze shifted toward Teclos.

"He asked. You lied."

The captain’s face darkened.

Teclos almost laughed.

"You dragged me over here for this?"

The mercenary lowered his voice.

"You saw what he did."

"Yes."

"Then help us."

"With what?"

The captain stared at him as though the answer were obvious.

Teclos turned back toward the stranger.

"Stand up."

The room quieted further.

The stranger looked at him over the rim of his cup.

"I’m comfortable."

"I wasn’t asking."

A faint smile appeared on the man’s face.

"You agreed to help them?"

"I agreed because I was bored."

"That makes more sense."

He finished his drink and set the cup down.

The innkeeper hurried over from the far end of the bar.

"Take it outside."

Neither of them looked at him.

The innkeeper swallowed.

"I mean it. I’ve already lost three tables."

The stranger glanced at the wreckage.

"Four."

The innkeeper followed his gaze and noticed another table lying in pieces beneath one of the mercenaries.

His face tightened.

"Outside."

Teclos looked toward the door.

The stranger did not move.

"You heard him," Teclos said.

"I did."

"And?"

"I don’t feel like walking."

Teclos stepped closer.

The stranger’s smile widened slightly.

There was no fear in it.

That was enough.

Teclos struck first.

His fist crossed the short distance between them.

The stranger leaned aside.

Not backward.

Aside.

Teclos’s knuckles passed close enough to disturb the man’s hair, but nothing more.

The stranger caught his wrist and turned.

Teclos felt the movement before he understood it.

His shoulder was pulled forward, his footing shifted beneath him, and the bar rushed toward his face.

He stopped himself with one hand.

Wood cracked beneath his palm.

The stranger released him and stepped back.

A few people near the door laughed before realizing who had nearly been thrown.

The sound died quickly.

Teclos straightened.

"You’re better than you look."

"So are you."

The stranger’s tone had not changed.

That irritated him more than the throw.

Darkness gathered around Teclos’s legs.

The stranger glanced down.

Teclos vanished.

He emerged from the man’s shadow with his elbow already moving toward the back of his neck.

The stranger ducked.

The blow passed overhead.

He drove one shoulder into Teclos’s chest and shoved.

Teclos struck the bar hard enough to tear it from the floor.

Bottles toppled from the shelves.

The innkeeper shouted something Teclos did not hear.

A tendril rose from beneath the stranger’s feet.

The man stepped over it before it fully formed.

A second came from the side.

He caught it.

For the first time, his expression changed.

Not fear.

Interest.

The tendril twisted around his arm.

The stranger pulled.

Teclos was dragged forward by his own darkness.

A knee struck him beneath the ribs.

The impact lifted him from the floor.

He crashed through a table and rolled across the boards.

The mercenaries backed away.

One of them whispered, "He’s losing."

Teclos stood.

The stranger still had hold of the tendril.

He examined it as though it were a length of rope.

"Strange mana."

Teclos closed his hand.

The tendril dissolved.

"Finished studying it?"

"Not yet."

Teclos spread his darkness across the floor.

Shadows deepened beneath every chair, table, and person in the room. Several patrons shouted and rushed for the door.

The stranger finally stepped away from the bar.

"Now that," he said, "is going to cost you."

Dark spikes rose from the floor.

The stranger moved between them.

He was faster now.

Not much.

Just enough for Teclos to realize the earlier movements had been restrained.

A spike tore through the edge of his coat.

Another passed beneath his arm.

The stranger stepped onto a third as it emerged, used it like a stair, and launched himself across the room.

Teclos raised both arms.

The kick struck his guard.

The floor broke beneath him.

Tables jumped from the impact.

The innkeeper abandoned whatever remained of his courage and ran.

Teclos caught the stranger’s ankle before he could pull away.

Darkness wrapped around it.

He swung the man through a support beam.

The beam shattered.

Part of the ceiling sagged.

The stranger hit the floor, rolled, and came back to his feet without showing pain.

Dust covered his coat.

He looked at the broken beam, then at Teclos.

"You do this often?"

"People usually die before the building collapses."

"That explains the inns."

Teclos attacked again.

The stranger met him in the center of the room.

Their fists struck at the same time.

A violent crack rolled through the tavern.

The nearest windows burst outward.

Teclos slid back several steps.

The stranger moved only one.

That settled it.

He was stronger.

Not by enough to make Teclos retreat.

Enough to make him stop treating the fight as entertainment.

Red light flickered in his eyes.

Darkness rose behind him in long, shifting strands.

The stranger’s smile faded.

"There you are."

Teclos moved.

Shadow Steps carried him behind the man, then to his left, then above him before the first position had fully collapsed.

The stranger blocked the first strike.

The second cut across his sleeve.

The third forced him through the remains of a wall.

They landed in the street among falling stone and splintered wood.

People screamed and scattered.

The mercenaries stumbled out after them, dragging their injured companions.

Teclos followed through the opening.

The stranger stood in the center of the road, brushing dust from his shoulder.

A shallow cut marked one cheek.

He touched it.

Blood stained his fingertip.

For the first time, annoyance entered his face.

Teclos noticed.

"So you do feel things."

The stranger looked at the blood.

"Apparently."

Mana stirred around him.

The street changed.

Not visibly.

There was no burst of flame, no storm of wind, no wall of force.

The pressure simply deepened.

Teclos’s darkness trembled.

The stranger stepped forward.

Teclos barely saw him move.

A fist struck his stomach.

The impact folded him around it and sent him through the tavern’s front wall.

He crossed the common room, struck the rear wall, and broke through that as well.

The entire building groaned.

Teclos landed in the alley behind it.

A shadow fell over him.

The stranger stood above him.

"You should stop."

Teclos spat blood onto the stones.

"You first."

Darkness exploded from beneath him.

The stranger jumped back as dozens of tendrils tore through the walls and roof of the tavern. The remaining supports gave way.

The building collapsed.

Stone, timber, and dust filled the street.

People ran in every direction.

The mercenaries who had started the fight fled without waiting for Teclos to help them.

Through the cloud, Teclos sensed the stranger moving.

He opened a rift beneath his own feet and vanished before the next attack reached him.

He emerged behind the stranger and caught his collar.

The man turned.

Teclos’s fingers closed around a thin chain hidden beneath the coat.

Something hard rested against the stranger’s throat.

Teclos pulled.

The chain snapped.

A dark stone pendant came free in his hand.

The stranger froze.

The change happened instantly.

The man’s face shifted beneath the dust.

The jaw narrowed. The shoulders drew inward. The body beneath the coat changed shape, becoming leaner and more graceful. Short gray-streaked hair lengthened, spilling past the shoulders in a dark wave.

The borrowed face disappeared.

A woman stood where the stranger had been.

She looked young, though Teclos knew better than to trust appearances where vampires were concerned. Her skin was pale beneath the dust, her features sharp and unnaturally perfect. Deep crimson eyes stared at the amulet in his hand.

No one spoke.

The remaining patrons had stopped at the far end of the street.

The mercenaries stared openly.

So did several guards who had arrived too late to prevent anything.

The woman touched her bare throat.

Then she looked around.

Her expression emptied.

Teclos felt the killing intent before her mana fully emerged.

It crushed the air from the street.

People dropped to their knees.

One of the mercenaries vomited. Another collapsed without making a sound. The guards gripped their weapons but could not lift them.

Teclos’s darkness withdrew toward him as if trying to escape.

The woman had been playing before.

He understood that now.

Everything she had shown inside the tavern had been restrained. A fraction of what she could actually do.

She looked at the witnesses.

There was no anger in her face anymore.

Only decision.

Everyone who had seen her true appearance was about to die.

Teclos glanced toward the mercenaries.

They were fools.

They had lied to him, dragged him into the fight, and watched while the tavern collapsed around them.

He still found it wasteful to lose them over a broken necklace.

"Get out," he said.

The captain looked at him.

"What?"

"Take your men and run."

The vampire’s gaze shifted toward Teclos.

"You think they’re leaving?"

Her voice was nothing like the one she had used before. Softer, but carrying far more weight.

Teclos looked at the guards and patrons.

"All of you. Move."

No one needed to be told again.

Those who could stand dragged the others away. The guards abandoned the street with them.

The woman watched.

Her killing intent sharpened.

Teclos felt it settle on every retreating back.

He stepped between her and the crowd.

"That’s enough."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You broke my amulet."

She looked past him toward the fleeing men.

"They won’t make it to the corner."

Teclos opened a rift.

Darkness split the air beneath both of them.

The woman’s eyes widened.

Teclos seized her wrist before she could move.

They fell.

The street vanished.

Cold darkness closed around them for the briefest moment.

Then the rift opened again.

They emerged on a rocky hill beyond the city walls.

Teclos released her and stepped back.

The woman landed lightly several paces away.

For the first time since her true form had been revealed, surprise crossed her face.

She looked toward the distant city, then back at Teclos.

"You moved us."

"Yes."

Her expression twisted.

A low growl rose from her throat.

"You puppet."

Teclos’s smile vanished.

The woman’s mana pressed outward again, stronger without the city around them.

"Your owner?" she asked. "Has Father lost his mind?"

Teclos said nothing.

"Sending one incompetent thrall after me?" Her gaze moved over his darkness. "And with this pitiful disguise?"

The words struck harder than the blows in the tavern.

Not because of the insult.

Because of the assumption.

She had seen his darkness and believed she knew which vampire house had created him.

Not Vael’thorr.

Someone else.

Her father.

A rival house.

Teclos looked at the broken amulet in his hand.

The woman mistook his silence for guilt.

"Who sent you?"

"No one."

"Do not lie to me."

"I don’t belong to anyone."

Her eyes flashed.

"You carry our darkness."

Teclos scoffed. "Think what ever you like."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Teclos considered the situation.

She was stronger than him.

Far stronger.

Angry enough to kill him.

And convinced he served a vampire house opposed to Vael’thorr.

That misunderstanding might be the only reason she had not torn his head off already.

It might also be useful.

Teclos slowly opened his hand and showed her the broken amulet.

"I can explain."

The vampire princess stared at him.

Her fangs lengthened.

"You have one chance."

Teclos looked toward the city behind her.

Calming an angry vampire had not been part of his plans for the evening.

Neither had finding a possible enemy of House Vael’thorr.

He slipped the broken amulet into his palm before the wind could carry it away.

One problem at a time.