Knight Game

The night had shown such promise, and the pretty brunette with the laughing blue eyes had seemed like a delightful choice for a late snack. When she left the Raven's dance floor and ventured outside alone, LaCroix had followed. He allowed her to lead him on a merry chase across the city, enjoying himself possibly more than was proper, certainly more than Nicholas would approve of-

-Right up until he had trailed her into an alley and found his way blocked by a boy who, even if he stood on his toes, would not have reached LaCroix's chin. By all rights, the boy should have crumpled beneath the hungry vampire's glare. Instead, he gripped the gaudy, over-sized pendant hanging against his chest, closed his eyes for a second, and then looked up at LaCroix with such an unmistakable air of threat that the Ancient almost retreated a step before he got a grip on himself.

Anger at his own reaction spurred LaCroix to growl, "You dare stand against me, child?"

The spiky-haired teenager smirked and, in a startlingly deep voice, said, "I am no more a child than you are."

LaCroix raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze once more over the boy standing between him and his rapidly escaping prey.

The boy was whippet thin, but there was a corded strength in his lean limbs and straight back. He was dressed in polished, black ankle boots with a slight heel that added little to his unimpressive height, dark jeans adorned with an excess of belts, a black muscle tee beneath a loose jacket that looked as if it might be from a school uniform of some kind, and the most ridiculous hairstyle LaCroix had seen in two millennia. A chunky gold pendant hung from a length of industrial chain around the boy's neck, which was protected from chafing by a leather collar.

Before, LaCroix had barely spared a glance for the ridiculous necklace. Now, he noted the Egyptian-looking eye on the front of the upside-down pyramid and wondered in what novelty gift shop the boy had found the tacky thing.

Letting his lip curl to reveal a hint of fang, LaCroix sneered. "You look like a child to me."

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Step aside." LaCroix was growing tired of playing with the annoying little punk. "Or take her place as my prey."

"I'm a bit old for hide and seek." The boy didn't move, standing hip-shot in the alley, and not even blinking as LaCroix let his eyes burn gold. "You'll not hunt anyone, tonight."

"You think you can stop me?"

"Yes."

There was something infuriating about the serene confidence in the boy's strange, almost purple eyes. He deserved to die for his arrogance alone.

Throwing discretion to the four winds - and what did it matter? Was he not going to drain this arrogant child anyway? - LaCroix snarled. He knew his eyes burned and his fangs had extended to their full, predatory length. "I am more powerful than you can imagine, mortal whelp! I was a general in Rome-"

"Rome?" The boy made a dismissive gesture. "Upstarts."

What? "...'Upstarts'?!"

"My people had built an empire before Rome was more than a few meager huts on a hill."

That did it. LaCroix flashed toward the boy, grabbed his shoulders, and slammed him against the rough brick of the alley wall. The boy flinched at the pain, but otherwise failed to react. It was most unsatisfactory.

"Who are you?" LaCroix demanded. Then, after a moment, added, "What are you?"

Because he could feel something in the air around them, something neither human nor vampire, but old and immensely powerful. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his skin crawled as that power seemed to seep out of the very shadows. Suddenly, the alley felt a lot darker and filled with a creeping cold that seeped into his bones.

A glowing shape - disturbingly like the eye on the front of the boy's pendant - appeared on the boy's forehead. The shadows at their feet gained substance, rising up in a black and purple fog to surround them. It blotted out the glow of the streetlights and hushed all sound but the steady beat of the boy's heart.

The boy drew himself up to his full height. Somehow, it was suddenly a lot more impressive, though the top of his head still barely reached LaCroix's shoulder. LaCroix glimpsed golden ankhs at the boy's wrists, and the wind lifted his jacket like a cape. The boy smiled, dark and filled with menace.

"I am the Golden Horus, Neb-Kheperu-Re Atem, Beloved of Kek, Lord of the Two Lands, Master of Shadows..." The strange eye on his forehead flickered brighter. At his feet, the shadows writhed, dancing as if in anticipation. "...And I challenge you to a game."