Paris was like many other cities at night. Dim gas lamps hanging in the murk of oily fog, leaving them dulled white smudges illuminating nothing but themselves. In the distance, a hound barked ferociously, and Leon assumed that it meant that the Hound's Trek had taken another of the rogues down.
Leon had not yet tasted blood. Each time he changed streets, it was if everything vacated suddenly into the zone just beyond his vision. There were things there in the night, not stalking, nor hunting, but simply watching. Testing his patience....and his mettle.
A wretched screeching rumbled from the sewers below. A ghastly mist of luminous green seeped through the air, cleansing like poison the polluted mist around. It was at first a maiden wandering towards Leon, a lustful illusion of some long dead witch. As it closed the distance, the rotting leathery carcass began to take form. Hollow black eyes and mummified black hair over her 15th century peasant clothes, the banshee rose it's hand with skin pulled taught. The slow grace became grossly twitchy and unnatural.
Like a snake, it sprung forth with it's rotting maw held wide. Leon's speed with such an immense blade was to be commended, as it saved him not a half-second too late from losing his throat. The creature's front teeth splintered as they crushed down on his sword. Leon sidestepped and tore the blade from it's bite, the monster then recoiled. It screamed again and pointed.
"You are destined for HELL wolf spawn!" It hissed.
"Wrong wraith, yours is the soul that is damned!" He growled back, slicing forward through the outstretched limb like brittle wood.
If the Banshee's howl could make ears bleed, then it's cries of pain would likely kill. Leon had to close cover his ears and drop to one knee as a raging psychic tempest erupted. But the magics that sustained it dried fast. The moment the bombardment ceased, Leon drew his left blunderbuss and took aim on the demon's skull. His resistance to the dark arts she had used were shocking. He easily recovered to his feet, and was already preparing for more. The creature saw the hunter could shrug off her most powerful weapon, and realized then the battle was lost. She fled away twirling forth into the sky.
Leon holstered he short range weapon, then calmly removed his long barreled wheelock. He rose it with one hand, muzzle connecting with the quivering green dot.
The shot fired, and a moment later she detonated as a ball of green fire lighting up the block. Then politely dwindled to a pile of fizzing ash. It was ironically a very quiet death of barely audible crackling.
Test passed, and simple enough.
"Your pets are quite disposable it seems. Then again, you are mere pets yourselves." Leon smirked, revealing his sharp canines. "Funny how we all have to lord over something. So, we why don't we fight? Beast to beast of course, I am sick of your pathetic proxies."
There was silence; Leon tightened his grip on his sword. He heard the movement of fabric and murmurs above him. They were there, numerous wolves on the roof tops, and he could see impish monsters on leashes moving about them.
"What to do, what to do." Chuckled a distinctly female Southern European voice as it's user stared at the snappily dressed fourth-breed below it.
"Pompous bastard Mura. Always liked dressing up his boys." Growled one of the traitor wolves beside her.
She laughed louder than she should have; Leon turned and stared right at the spot she sat. The look on his face showed that he hadn't forgot that voice. It made her happy that he hadn't.
She was too giddy to wait for the rest of the wolves to decide. She beckoned her subordinate with a smile, who sighed reluctantly in reply, but of followed as if simply another part of her master's cape.
Leon followed the descending figures in the veil of fog. The moment they touched the street, a strong wind rolled away the fog around them. They hadn't changed much since Constantinople, in fact, they both seemed to be wearing those same suits from that battle. Black leather with numerous straps and crests that formed well to their bodies. Katherine wore an extravagant cape with hundreds of strange sigils.
"Katherine. Oh, my apologies, do you still prefer Lady Katherine?" Leon asked with a scowl.
"Oh you do not know how thrilling it is that you remember my real name." Katherine replied.
Katherine was a middle aged woman, in appearance at least. Her hair was long and black, generally covering her glass eye. Her still functioning eye was scarlet as blood, adding to her legend. Little is known about Katherine, other than her family lineage is dead, maybe by several hundred years. It's also unknown by what method she keeps herself alive. But the immortality seems to have not weighed heavily on her.
Leon turned next to the assistant who's name came after a moment of consideration.
"As per usual you are escorted; it's been a while Miss Guinevere."
Guinevere was a teenage girl also in appearance alone. She had ginger hair that emulated her superior's though shorter by several centimeters. The light or dark always seemed to mask her eyes behind the spectacles she wore. What lay beneath that face is as much a mystery as Katherine.
"Hello to you as well Leon." She replied.
"Alas, you lack the third one. Jack was it?"
"Dead. Diseases that he received a week after you shot him at the docks."
Leon smiled, "Ah yes, was always curious if I hit an artery."
"So Leon," Katherine asked, pausing while she drew the great sword at her waist, "I can't help but think that you don't want us touching the Divinicus."
"Be a blow to Victor's pride. Wouldn't want that would you?"
She smiled slightly, but the the killing look in her eye was enough. It's was time to battle the immortal noble once more.