During which the confrontation continues...
78
Michael Bishop appraised the stranger. His cold glare taking in every detail of this new creature, this intruder.
Wylde and the others, craven dogs that they were, were afraid, very afraid of him. They didn't have what Bishop did, they hadn't received the true gift, the Dragon's Blood itself. The Cocheta had gifted them, yes, given them a taste of that holy sacrament but once, enough to grant them immortality and the great power that came with it.
That was extra though, a gift that truly didn't come from their master but from his treasure, an added bonus to it's acquisition. It was what Reginmal and his brother had killed their own father and then waged their great and bloody secret war for, that gift.
It was powerful, to be a Vampyr, he did not abase it's advantages. It was after all how Reginmal had become the Cocheta, how he could control and pervert all life around him. It was how he could summon creatures of darkness to do his bidding, how they flew to him like a moth to the flame, attracted to his very presence.
But there had been another gift, one he'd parted on Bishop alone, one that gave him power over them all. It was why, he was certain, this stranger's obvious enchantment imparted fear on the others and did nothing to him.
And thus they stood there, he and the stranger, their eyes locked, Brian Wylde mere paces away, his limbs trembling. Bishop grinned with amusement, he could help it not. The little vermin's childish bluster would momentarily remove his irritating presence from the Cocheta's new order. Or it would be the stranger that fell, if he turned out to be nothing but bluster himself. None of it mattered much to Bishop. His destiny was secured.
Something though, some voice far beyond the reaches of his ego, screamed out to him, reminded him of Reginmal's reaction. He'd never seen him react in such a matter, never. It was almost as if their Master had been---
He shoved that doubt away, clearing his thoughts for what would lay ahead...his revelation of his true nature to the others. That would most certainly erase any further thoughts of dissension. Perhaps if Wylde did kill the intruder, he would reveal himself anyway, slaughter Wylde before the others. It was a thought, a delectable one at that. He was starting to enjoy getting his owns dirty lately and this was surprising even to him.
“You show quite a bit of courage coming here stranger,” Wylde took a step forward, trying with all he could to look the part of leader. “Do you know where you are? Do you know with whom you speak?”
The stranger brought his gaze to bear on Wylde for the briefest of moments but said nothing at all.
“Are you Spanish? You don't dress like they do. Do you speak in their ridiculous mongrel language? Perhaps you are from the East and just trying to dress like a civilized man. Do you speak any English at all, filth? Have you any tongue?”
The stranger kept his eyes locked on Bishop's. It would come to them, Bishop knew it to a certainty now. This blue-eyed devil merely ignored Wylde like the craven dog he truly was.
“Don't look at him, filth!!!” Wylde spat, his voice outraged. “Look here, it is I that speaks to you!!”
Bishop laughed, a deep chortle that came from far below and sprang through and out of him in a great heave. Others joined in, slowly but surely following suit, all laughing at Wylde's expense.
“He knows, Wylde,” he finally broke his own silence. “He knows you for the excrement you are.”
Wylde howled in outrage. Baring his fangs, he whirled on him and for a moment, Bishop wondered which of them Wylde would attack, his fellow Vampyr or the intruder.
Wylde chose the other, his claws extending, his entire body tensing before leaping suddenly into the air and coming down over the intruder's head.
End Part 76
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