A handsome, tall stranger with very pale complexion attired entirely in dark heavy clothes walked into a tavern. A few suspicious pairs of eyes stayed glued on him, observing his every move. He sat at the farthest corner of the tavern which was dimly lit obscuring their view of him. He didn't take off his hat. He pulled it down an inch lower over his abysmal dark eyes. He lifted both legs up and rested them on the round table. The chair he was seated in was tilted backwards slightly to stand on the two back legs.
A waitress in skimpy leather attire approached him. "What can I get you?"
Without looking at the waitress, "Black coffee with wiski."
"Food?" She looked expectantly at him.
He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes. She nodded and left him. She thought, although he looked handsome with exceedingly sharp features of the upper crust but he bore a commoner's disposition. A burly looking man with a heinous tattoo on his bald head grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. She grimaced both in pain, and fear. The stranger just sat there in the shadows not caring of the strained atmosphere.
"Who's that nice lookin' bloke?" The burly man spoke into her face.
The waitress grimaced again this time because of the horrible rancid smell of the burly man's breath. "I don't know."
"Of course not," The burly man pushed her from him. "He looks too elegant to be a hunter."
She fell on her knees. She rubbed furiously on her slightly scraped left knee. But she quickly crawled to safety which was behind the bar. The bar tender didn't look down at the anxious crouching waitress. She gave him the stranger's order to the bar tender. The stranger was motionless and expressionless as three men approached his table. One of the men knocked his legs of the table. The stranger opened his eyes but didn't look at the eyes of the adversaries.
He sat with his legs stretched in a relaxed manner. The one who knocked his legs of the table kicked his booted foot. He glanced at the man and stared with his dark eyes. The shortest of the three plucked a gun out of the holster and pointed at his temple. Then he tapped the handsome pale stranger's temple with it. The stranger shifted his dark gaze to the short fellow. He looked at the other two troublemakers. The three of them were slayers but not vampire hunters.
"Regis of Hadron," He smiled in boredom, "A dead man standing." One of his fingers was stained and was dripping with blood.
He frowned at the stranger then suddenly he was choking. He couldn't breathe. He was gasping for air but the only sound that came from him was raspy ones. That sound came from his deeply slashed throat. He put both hands on his throat. His eyes rolled upwards revealing the whites, blood gushing from his exposed wound, he fell forward, and with face down. The blood from the deep neck wound pooled round his head and upper body. The fallen man didn't rise because he was killed by his kind.
The other two looked shocked at the fallen body and the stranger. The three were considered the strongest there in the City of Two Suns. They were the loyal followers of one of the noble ancients. They didn't realise that their brethren was killed while the latter was tapping the stranger's temple with the gun. All they saw was the spraying of blood from the short man's neck wound. The stranger dared kill one of Count de Magnon's retainers just by poking the retainer's throat with a finger!
"Who're you?" The burly man with the horrible tattoo on his bald head bellowed at him.
The few patrons there moved away from their seats or clambered out of the bar not wanting to be in the line of danger. The burly man's hand was on the hilt of a wicked looking blade. The stranger looked at him with abysmal eyes. His eyes seemed to be devouring the burly man whole. The burly man blinked twice and shook his head to clear his cloudy mind mentally. The burly man felt he was falling deeper and deeper into a never ending pitch black void.
It was a frightful feeling of haplessness and silent chaos which could make anyone insane. This stranger didn't say anything. The burly man thought he looked familiar with the way he stood, walked, looked, sat it was looking at a long lost dark prince descending from the lightning cracked midnight sky. Who was this man? He was standing beside the dead body. He walked on the pool of blood towards the tall brethren. The tall brethren backed up four or five steps from the imposing aura.
"What do you want?" The tall man frowned.
"Not what, but who, Madlux of Beldar," The stranger said, his eyes trained to the tall man seemed to pin the tall man on the spot.
"Who then are you looking for?" The burly man with a terrible tattoo on his bald head blurted. "And how do you know our names?"
"Very good questions, Warrix of Cindor" The pale stranger, "Your master ordered you three to kidnap a young human woman from her family in Rynion." He glanced at the Warrix. "I know what he had done to her. I'm here to take her back."
"Rescue her," Warrix chuckled in mock curiosity, "from Count Aurelius de Magnon. You're as silly as those long locks you're sporting."
"No one knows where the Count is," Madlux interjected.
"I'm not interested in the Count," The handsome pale stranger told him. His abysmal eyes glittered dangerously and eerily.
"You're one of us, aren't you?" Warrix asked directly at the pale stranger. "Why hunt us? Wouldn't it be better to hunt insignificant humans or mangy werewolves?"
"I'm not interested in werewolves." The pale stranger said.
"Don't tell me you have a thing for humans." Madlux curled a lip in disgust.
"I'm not interested in humans." The pale stranger said. "I'm here to get Soleil of Rynion."
"Do you have a death wish?" Warrix frowned at him.
"Do you?" The pale stranger's lips thinned in contempt.
Madlux sighed, "Humans are in existence for our consumption." Then he smiled wickedly biting his own lower lip to taste his own blood.
The pale stranger looked with impassive dark eyes at Madlux. He was unimpressive by Madlux's action. "Humans are an endangered species. Once they're gone you're gone." The pale stranger said.
"Then we move on to another world." Madlux replied.
"Like parasites." The pale stranger concluded.
The two guffawed.
"But humans are tastier." Warrix informed. "So there's a need to harvest them."
"Most likely it's a place often visited by your kind." The pale stranger said offhandedly.
"Our kind is your kind, pale one." Madlux retorted.
"Not necessarily accepted." The pale stranger answered eerily and elusively looking warily at the other red eyes staring at him. He glanced down at the wooded floor. "Beneath my feet is the place I suppose."
"Good eyes." Warrix informed. "But we can't let you have your way."
"It would be wise for you to let me have my way." The stranger replied not moving an inch away from the spot he was on.
"Like what you did to poor Regis," Madlux growled in fury.
"Exactly," The pale stranger said coolly.
"Cocky bastard," Warrix unsheathed his sword and raised it in an arc. He took a swing at the stranger.
It was easily deflected with swift footwork from the stranger. Warrix was unable to detect his surreal speed. He thought he was fast but the stranger was faster. Warrix was not able to match the pale stranger's movements nor could he read the stranger's actions. All he knew was that the stranger had stepped behind his back, grabbing Warrix's neck. Before he could do anything to protect himself, he felt his chest being impaled.
It was the dark stranger's hand. The stranger jammed it into Warrix's chest. He could feel the stranger's hand grabbing his beating heart. Warrix could only jerk in surprise as the stranger squeezed his heart as if squeezing juice out of an orange. He howled in pain as blood spurted from his mouth and from the gaping hole on his chest as the stranger pulled his meshed heart. He grabbed the stranger's cloak as he slid onto the ground.
He gasped, "Who the hell are you?"
The stranger ignored him then looked at a stunned Madlux who just stood there staring at Warrix's limp body on the ground. His eyes widened in horror to see the meshed heart in the stranger's pale hand all bloodied with Warrix's blood. The stranger threw the heart out of the window. There were dogs outside scavenging for food. They could hear the dogs quarreling amongst themselves for it. He moved towards the counter and looked at the ready coffee made for him.
"You're mad!" Madlux yelled at him.
"I've been called worse. So, I'll take that as a compliment."
"You know what, you're too late." Madlux laughed cynically at him. "We've harvested her for the Count."
"I know," the stranger looked displeased.
Madlux stared at him with open curiosity. "How do you know?"
"I sensed she's no longer alive."
Madlux's eyes widened, as the count's retainer he could only smell fear and blood. He could hear the heart beat of a human victim. However, he could not sense death because it was one of the many specialties of ancient noble vampires. Who was this stranger? Still he was enraged upon hearing that this stranger had the gall to kill his comrades and correctly guess that the harvesting facility was beneath this bar. He must be eliminated.
Not a moment's blink that he found the stranger was not in front of him. He was nowhere to be seen. Madlux's thoughts were that the stranger went underground. He cast his eyes on the wooded floor and couldn't find a hole big enough for a man to fall through. Suddenly he felt an invincible hand grabbing his throat pulling him into a void. He discovered that he was strapped in the harvesting machine. He tried to break free from the invincible bounds. But to no avail. Why couldn't he break loose?
"Let me answer your question." The stranger looked at him. "You're in my control. You all were from the beginning."
Madlux had a bad feeling in his guts. He stared at the stranger in trepidation.
"You're right to feel uncomfortable."
Suddenly Madlux felt several sharp needles magically being inserted into his skin. These needles were drawing his blood. "What're you doing?"
"I want you to experience the harvesting of blood." He shifted his gaze to Madlux, "Or would you prefer my hand," He showed Madlux his palm which had a gaping mouth with razor sharp teeth, "to eat you up?"
"I don't want …"
"You can't choose."
Madlux was in a fix. He couldn't decide. How could you decide your own death?
"If you can't decide then I'll decide for you."
"Here," The stranger threw something in a gunny sack into the harvest machine where Madlux was bound. "This is a fitting farewell present for you."
The thing inside the sack rolled out on Madlux's chest. He was shocked beyond words. It was the head of Count de Magnon. How? When? Where?
"Yesterday, in his chamber with this," The stranger's finger nails grew nine inches long. Then the nails retracted to normal.
The stranger pressed the button which had the sound proof fibre glass raised to close the gap. Madlux yelled at the stranger, "Who are you?" while thrashing about in the blood harvesting machine.
"I'm D," The stranger said then he left the stunned Madlux.
Madlux had met the prince of their ancient king. D was half human and half vampire. D who had inherited almost all of their king's abilities but as damphir, he held a huge resentment on both humans and vampires. Madlux grimaced in pain yet smiled slightly. The prince was walking on the dark edge even if he didn't seem to notice it. He had the characteristics of becoming a great beast but there was something which obstructed the change.
What was it? Madlux didn't know what it was but it was just as great as the beast within. An internal eternal conflict for the prince to overcome and Madlux was sure that the prince would one day step into the dark edge and restore their civilisation. Then Madlux screamed louder as the machine began to extract every bit of his blood. He screamed harder but no one heard him.
THE END
A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a fic on VHD. Of course, it doesn't follow canon and for that I apologise. I'm not known to follow canon nor fanon. I just write what fancies my Muses. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
