A Bloodied Kiss
It was the perfect time of year, the party season. That time when the nobles left their homes and manors in the country side for their residences in the city.
Summer.
The most festive season of the year, but also the most dangerous for one's belongings. Thief guilds were always busiest when lady summer and her guests rolled in.
One such thief prowled the streets this night. He was short and lean; ideal traits to have for his line of business. He dressed from the hat on his head to the boots on his feet in black, allowing him to blend into shadows as he walked past.
He did not stop at the large manors in the city that were alive with laughter and music and light. He did not stop at one of the more high-class brothels, though he did pause and consider going in for a visit. No, he did not go to these places because they were not his target.
His target lay on the edge of the city where suburb stopped and castle began; the sole area where the richest of the rich lived.
He stopped before it's ornate, family crested gate and observed the target house with a critical eye. It was, modest, compared to many of the building here. Ten acre grounds on each side, three floors above ground and two below, not counting the cellar despite the decor, the gate was simple to get past, and there were no dogs to speak of.
Getting in would be easy, especially for someone with his particular 'talents.'
With a sharp toothed smile, he pulled on black gloves and dissolved into the shadows.

Still within shadow, his 'eyes' narrowed in irritation. Getting in had been easy; child's play. Slipping past all of the servants and posted guards had been no problem. They had been where they were supposed to be.  These five guards and their dogs however, were not.
He had received no intel saying that anyone, even mice, would be down here in the same room as his intended prize. Nothing in planning said they even should be here.
He simply shook his 'head' in exasperation. It was no matter; this was why he was the best. He could improvise when something like this came up.
He leaped from one shadow to another, the movement drawing the attention of one of the dogs for a moment. When the animal looked away, he slid into the shadow of the guard nearest to him.
A needle appeared out of thin air.
One of the men standing in a circle around the covered pedestal grunted and slapped at the back of his neck and the buzz of a mosquito filled the room. At the questioning stares of his fellows he said, "Bug bit me."
They nodded and resumed their watch.
That same 'bug' bit all of the others as well; aiming for where ever a bit of flesh was exposed.
Soon they began to drop to the ground, one by one, foaming at the mouth.
When the last man had fallen to the ground, the thief materialized before a brazier and tossed in five poison tipped needles.
The dogs watched him, and unnatural intelligence in their yellow gazes.
Warily, he took a step forward.
They simply watched.
He repeated the process until he reached the podium, his target within his grasp.
The animals simply continued their unnerving staring.
Keeping an eye on the dog closest to him he reached out a gloved hand towards the jewel. Just as his hand closed around it, they leaped for him.
He dropped to the ground, narrowly dodging the awkward and deadly open jaws that drooled to sink into his neck.
One of the animals had anticipated the move and shot out at him from the now obviously hollow pillar, a dark growl ripping through the air as it charged.
The thief's eyes widened at the full on sight of the dogs open maw. Both the top and bottom jaws had split into two, jagged rows of teeth lining the split down to the tiny slit where they connected again.
One moment he could see, the next his face burned and the hiss of acid on flesh filled the air above the deep growls. There was a sudden jerk and harsh pull on his right leg.
He dropped to the ground, lame and blind, surrounded by giant mutant dogs, and hearing an alarm that hadn't been there before.

A panting, black clad figure suddenly appeared in a deserted alleyway, clutching an arm and squinting through acid burned eyes. He slid down the slimy wall and reached into a pocket. He grinned tiredly when his hand brushed a smooth cloth and then with a grimace, he pulled out a homing beacon and pressed the center button.
He prayed his pickup would have his 'medicine.'
*  *  *  *
An extravagant coach rumbled down the dark streets, drawing little attention from the drunkards and elegantly dressed party goers that prowled about for the nearest bar.
Within, one of its occupants pulled his mask off with a gentle sigh. Taking a silk gloved hand, he rubbed the now cool skin of his face. He brought that same hand down, loosening the collar of his elaborate costume. The color nor details were discernible in the scant flashing lights as the vehicle rushed down the streets, however, one feature prominently displayed itself with the costume's companion jacket was removed; the main piece sat like a second skin on his broad chest. Every dip and curve on his body was visible, as was the gentle rise and fall of his body filling with breath.
There was a pouting sigh to his right. Turning his head, he saw the young woman he traveled with glaring at him.
"Why do you crease that beautiful face of yours with a frown my pet?" The noble man asked, running the back of his hand along her firm, supple cheek.
She pulled away from his hand and looked out the window, her smooth jaw-line firming. "I am bored. I did not leave father's party just to go gallivanting through the city at midnight." She whipped around to face him angrily. "You promised me excitement if I were to spend my evening with you; I have yet to see as such."
The noble man looked taken aback for a moment before smiling predatorily.
"My dear, I do not think you understand what I meant when I made my proposition." He stated, sliding over to her and boxing her in against the coach walls with one arm while he delicately rested his fingertips upon her jaw. "My offer was not one that promised another silly party or temporary elope," as he spoke, he drug his fingers to the wet velvet choker around her neck. "As I clearly demonstrated earlier." He leaned in closer to her, reveling in her soft and pained gasp. "Or did you require another?"
The young woman flushed and broke eye contact, shivering when the noble man chuckled lowly and returned to his seat.
"Worry not my pet, we shall arrive soon enough."

Some time later, long after the parties had ended and the guests had gone home and the bars had closed leaving the drunks to wander the streets; that same coach rumbled down the streets, going opposite the direction it had originally come.
Inside, the noble man watched the young girl as she slept.
She certainly had been a convincing little liar; claiming to have 'donated' to five others before him.
He shook his head in amusement. She had been a virgin, her blood spoke of that much, and really, the lack of marks upon her underweight body should have been his first clue.
He leaned upon his knuckle thoughtfully. It was a nice change of pace he supposed, taking from virgins, but certainly not something he would make a habit of.
Such blood was far too sweet to indulge in, if he did he would get fat. And quite honestly, it didn't suit his tastes. He preferred a darker more refined taste, much like Louis.
Ah yes, Louis…
He smiled and leaned back.
That young man had looked absolutely delectable this evening, dressed as the slain dove from the scriptures. All white and feathers, a single scarlet patch upon his breast.
It was mouth watering.
The noble man seemed to drift for a moment before coming back to himself. A quick glance cast out the window told him that it was nearing dawn. If he didn't get home soon, he would quite literally be the walking dead.
He rapped twice upon the roof of the vehicle with his cane, signaling his driver to go faster.
The coach finally rolled up to the city manor of Lord John Trevillon.
As the tall noble man stepped out, he, as always, raised an elegant brow at the sheer tackiness of the place. The man really did need to stop letting his wife decorate for parties, she always seemed to pick the worst colors to go together.
While he continued to criticize Lady Trevillon's taste, he noticed that one of the upstairs parlors was still lit.
He smiled. How very like the fat little lord to still be up drinking with his equally fat little lord friends.
The head butler exited the mansion to greet the unexpected house guest. His eyes widened when he recognized just who it was who stood so eloquently on the drive.
"My Lord San-." He was cut off by a gloved hand.
"I have something to return." The noble man said, gracefully stepping to the side and opening the door. He then motioned for the man to come closer and examine what slept within the coach.
"My Lady!" The butler quickly called for other servants to take the girl to her rooms and prepare her for her bed before turning back to his now amused and conscious guest.
"My lord, is there anything you would care for in refreshment whilst I retrieve my master?"
"I would rather that I was brought to him instead." He replied, tossing his hair over a shoulder and looking down at the man, his suggestion much stronger than it appeared.
"Of course my lord, follow me."

The inside of the place was as tacky as the outside was. Although, a life where your husband was more interested in his friends and profit than you made one turn to other areas to entertain oneself.
It made the nobleman wrinkle his nose in distaste as he was led to the parlor Trevillon and his group resided.
He could smell them long before he could hear them. There was indeed much alcohol involved, as well as women; if the thick scent of brandy and loud raucous laugh of paid women penetrating the halls distortedly was anything to go by.
The butler knocked twice on the door before announcing him and standing to the side.
A chorus of cheers greeted the tall nobleman, who bowed and smiled disarmingly at the unfortunate girls.
"Ah Laurent, the man of the hour, what can I do for you friend?"
Laurent watched with an elegantly raised brow as the fat little lord teetered drunkenly over to stand before him and take a sip of brandy.
"It is good to see you well, and celebrating as always no less…"
The portly man laughed. "Care to join us in the festivities?" he asked gesturing to the drink and half dressed women behind him.
The tall lord cocked his head to the side in a show of thought before dropping his gaze to that of the smaller man's. "I fear I must decline, I have already indulged myself this evening. I am merely here to return your daughter and ask something from you."
Trevillon's head jerked in surprise at the mention of his daughter before slowly replying, "Ask away my friend."
Laurent smiled dangerously. "I would prefer a more private audience with you my lord."
He watched as the short and elderly man looked back at his companions before motioning him towards the door that led to a separate parlor.
Once they were alone, Laurent seated himself gracefully on one of the low couches, fixing his golden eyed gaze on Trevillon.
"So, what need have you?" the plump man asked, nervously toying with his stained cravat.
"One of your stable hands, whichever one that tended to my horses the last time I was here did an astounding job. I would like to buy them from you." Laurent said, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
The drunken lord started a moment. "Y-you can't just buy someone! Not in this day and age, it's illegal!"
The silver haired lord chuckled darkly and leaned forward, his smile disarming and his eyes cold. "You misunderstand my friend; I am not buying so that I might use them without pay. I will not own them. I want their abilities in my house.
The red-faced little man shuffled his feet nervously, if Lord Laurent wanted something, he usually got it. It was a rare event indeed to have his wishes defied.
"I'm afraid I can't sell him to you, he was a personal gift from the old monarchy."
Laurent leaned back, displeased, but now interested. "What manner of 'gift?'"
"One that requires special care to keep him alive; the only way you could keep him is if I gave him and all that he came with, to you."
"Then why don't you?" Laurent was beginning to grow irritated with the stubborn man.
"I can't at the moment, he resides in his own home this night and I am under oath to tell him before I sign off his fate." The little lord said, the excuse dripping from his chapped lips like the promises of a whore as he fidgeted beneath Laurent's now smoldering gaze.
"As you wish… when you ready to give, simply send me word and I shall arrange everything." The elaborately dressed lord said with a disgusted sigh as he stood and left the parlor, tossing his hair over his shoulder as the door shut with a finalized anger.

Sometime later, Laurent sat within his carriage, pouting. Humans were so troublesome to bargain with.
The noble sighed. When he got home, he would take a bath and fall into the black arms of unconscious sleep.