Prince of Darkness II: Cold Heart

Chapter 1

The rain plummeted down in merciless sheets, thunder growling above like an angry beast. The figure moved silently and swiftly through the foul conditions, his body shielded from the night's chill by a long coat. His eyes landed on a tavern nearby. It wasn't much...but at least it would mean shelter.

Throwing open the door, Vincent quickly moved inside, all but slamming the door behind him. Running a hand through his wet hair, the Halfling assessed the room. Wooden tables were set all around, half-drunk men sitting on rickety seats having conversations in slurred words while grabbing their next drink. The females strutting around offering their 'services' were of no interest to him either. Usually a woman's scent was delicious and tempting, but there's reeked of ale and countless men.

Taking a seat at one of the abandoned tables at the back of the room, Vincent sighed. He put his head in his hands, fisting his hair. Three months. For three months he had been on a killing spree to dispose of any remaining werewolf hunters still loyal to Robert. The Halfling had learned to recognize those that had once belonged to the horrid man. They each had a unique tattoo on their arms as a sign of their loyalty. When Vincent had first seen that tattoo, he had assumed there would only be a few werewolf hunters loyal to Robert.

But he had been wrong.

There seemed to be thousands.  Every time he would kill one of the werewolf hunters, there seemed to be another to take his place. The numbers appeared to be endless. How many people did that man used to have under his command? How far were they spread around?

All of a sudden, a soft feminine voice purred, interrupting his thoughts. "Are you alright sir?"

Vincent glanced at the whore before him with complete indifference. He forced a charming grin, "I'm fine now sweetheart."

She giggled. Bending over the table, deliberately giving him a good view of her cleavage, she replied, "Well that's good. How about I stay here to...keep the loneliness away. A handsome man like you shouldn't be alone."

Vincent resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The amount of times he had been called that were laughable. Not that he minded...but it just got boring. The Halfling looked around, before his gaze fell on five men that sat at the bar at the front of the room. They were all muscular, and all had their back to him. Vincent was about to turn away, when one of the men commented to his friend, his voice rough. "Too bad Robert died. He taught me well."' The man rolled up his sleeve to show a tattoo in black ink of a stake going through a heart.

That got Vincent's attention.

Eyes dark with anger, the assassin shot up from his seat, ignoring the whore completely as he walked over. He tapped one of the men on the shoulder. The man turned, and seconds later Vincent delivered a quick and powerful punch to his face. The man smashed into the bar counter, hitting his head and dying from the impact.

The four others stood, going for Vincent. The assassin merely smirked, a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He moved fast, unsheathing his sword and slicing off the men's heads before they could come any closer. Wiping the blood from his sword with his coat, Vincent walked out of the tavern without a second look.

Closing the door behind him, the Halfling felt relief wash over him. Five more down...who knew how many to go. But still, it was five less werewolf hunters he would have to worry about. The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose. Vincent tensed, reaching for his sword once more. Someone was watching him. Turning, he was prepared to fight if he had to. 

A woman appeared in the mist, seemingly from nowhere. With his exceptional night vision, he could see her clearly despite the darkness. She wore a long black dress with a low neckline, her curled black hair lose around her shoulders and falling down her back. Her brown eyes met his, and her lips curled into a smile. "Hello." Her voice was almost musical.

Vincent gave a nod of greeting to be polite. "What are you doing out here?"

"The storm does not bother me," she answered.

The assassin raised a brow, "Aren't you cold?"

The woman shook her head, "No. I do not get cold." She cleared her throat, "Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you somewhere else. It isn't safe for us to talk here."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, "I'm not going anywhere."

The mysterious woman laughed, "We'll see." Before he could object again, the Halfling was blinded by a bright flash of light.

OOO

Vincent's eyes snapped open.

He sat up, quickly studying his new surroundings. He was on a small bed at the back of a large room that was more round then square. There was a small shelf on both the right and left walls, each holding several thick books with strange markings on the covers. A door was in front of him, obviously leading into the rest of the house.

His eyes rested on the woman standing by the closed door. The same person he'd met in the storm. She crossed her arms, "It's good that you've woken up."

"Why am I here?" he snarled. He hated himself for being taken by surprise so easily. Who did this woman think she was for capturing him?

She crossed her arms, "I had to bring you here like I did. You wouldn't have come if I hadn't have used my magic."

Vincent clenched his hands into tight fists, "Of course I wouldn't have!" Lowering his voice to a deadly soft tone, he demanded, "Now. Who are you, what are you and why did you bring me here?"

The woman stepped forward, "My name is Alexandria, I am a witch, and I have brought you here for a very important reason."

The assassin hissed, "What is it?"

Alexandria growled, "Try to have a little patience! I was going to tell you before you interrupted me, Halfling."

Vincent sneered, "Then get on with it instead of lecturing me like a child!"

The witch took a deep breath to calm herself, before saying. "I have brought you here...because I need your help."