The Werewolf of Castlevania (Book 1)

I said Good Thief not Great Thief - Chapter 2

After a day of walking the sun is starting to set. I quicken my pace toward some lights ahead of me. Lights mean food and maybe some money. A town would also mean a bed, no more sleeping on the ground.

The town is dotted with houses and stores. A tavern. My stomach growls. Just going to need to get some money. Pushing open the door I step into a mostly empty room except for a few drunk lingering around the bar. Can't help the urge to smirker, perfect targets.I might not be a great thief but I can steal from a couple of drunk, smelly men in a rundown tavern.

Picking an almost passed out man wearing a burly fur cloak. I slide into a stool next to him waving over the bartender and order a drink. He doesn't even look up but he does hand me an ale. There are four other men huddled around a table I pick up bits and pieces of their conversation,

"Dracula...sinner... and who's caught in the middle...us" I have to chuckle to myself at this. Fucking humans blame everything on anyone but them, can't take any damn responsibility for their own actions.

I swear the drunk beside my snores, this guy is just asking to be robbed. Keeping one hand on the counter, I slip the other hand down reaching over. I slip my hand under his cloak feeling a coin purse. Bingo. As I withdraw my hand my wrist is grabbed. I jump in surprise and almost fall off of my stool. The drunk tightens his grip on my wrist until I let go, wincing in pain as a low growl rumbles from my throat. I feel the beast rising and my eyes dilating. Quickly slamming my eyes shut to keep anyone from seeing the glow of my beast eyes. As my beast rage dies down I look back at him. Trying in vain to pull my wrist free.

The drunk lifts his head from the table a little. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." he grumbles drunkenly wobbling in his stool. Wow, he has amazingly blue eyes even with the long scar on his left eye. All works together with his spiky black hair. His cloak falls back, and I catch a flash of a familiar crest. Shit, a Belmont, they are rumored to have been all killed off. There is one here and I tried to rob him. This really isn't my day. A cold fear creeps up my spin as I feel the beast once again. Belmont's kill monsters like me. The drunk Belmont doesn't let go of my wrist as I keep trying to pull away. The bartender came over demanding pay from the drunk as he fished out his money I could tell the bartender noticed his shirt by the way his expression changed. Damn he saw the crest.

"Belmont?!" he spits out the name. I look over my shoulder and see four large very drunk men standing behind us glaring. Fuck, this looks like trouble. They fucken smell like death and mold. All I wanted was some money and a fucken drink.

One of them grabs Belmont and spins him around, breaking his grip on my wrist. Time to go. Slipping out of my seat I back away towards the door and freedom.

One of them seizes my arm "You are not going anywhere girlie"

Who the fuck calls anyone girlie anymore?! These guys must be really dumb.

"It's just an old shirt" I hear Belmont wine. I am beginning to wonder if he really is a Belmont not some drunk with a stolen shirt.

Fuck my life. The other three thugs close in on the Belmont asking him questions and beating him. Three against one hardly seems fair.

"I'm Trevor Fucking Belmont. House of Belmont" I wince as they punch him in the face knocking him to the floor, one of them hits him in the balls as he tries to get back up. I hate to say it but even against a Belmont that's unsportsmanlike.

The man holding me laughs as his friends continue to beat on the Belmont. A growl rumbles from my throat. He might be a Belmont but nobody deserves to get beaten up like that.