Zeiss walked the massive compound, approaching the main door, where two armed men stood sentinel. Were it any other time, he would have chosen to burn them alive and reappear within the mansion; but he was brewing.
He had been brewing for two days—two days of Eleven being grievously ill, and two days of his helpless rage. He had known who was behind it; none other than Duke Pascal, the man who had recently been inscribed upon his death list. Zeiss had thought the man foolish, and this act had only proven him correct.
"Who are you?"
"Stop right there."
The two guardsmen called out as they noticed Zeiss's approach. It was nighttime, but the vision of vampires was ever keen—though not nearly so keen as the man striding towards them.
When they saw he was not pausing, the guardsmen unsheathed their swords, eyes glowing as they advanced before he could reach the door.
