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Amadeus kissed Lady Lock’s hand as he did with all the ladies, but when he touched this woman, an erotic vision of her beneath him flashed before his eyes. It caught him off guard but only for a second. Amadeus collected himself and politely greeted the lovely Lady then his host was already ushering him on to the next guest. As Amadeus moved through the party, he glanced back a few times to see Lady Lock, but she had vanished among the crowd of guests.

He’d walked this earth for longer than he could remember, and he’d met many others like him. Kindred spirits that stalked the night and they all had amazing abilities, and some of them had a few unique ones. Amadeus had the ability to predict the future.

He had learned over the years how to use his ability to his advantage, but sometimes things just came to him even when he wasn’t looking for it. It was like he was picking up on a strong emotion that he couldn’t block, and he was most defiantly picking up something from the young Lady he had just met, something carnal and animalistic. He would have liked more time with her to explore this development, but he had social obligations.

Shortly after, Amadeus arrived dinner was announced, and the guests filtered from the ballroom to the dining hall where a long table had been set with fine china, crystal glassware, and silver candlesticks. With tall red wax candles flickering, illuminating the dining hall. There were place cards placed around the table assigning the guests seats.

Amadeus had been sat near the head of the table next to his host and his daughter. Amadeus had lived long enough to know they were hoping he would take an interest in Lady Stafford. She reeked of manipulating husband hunter, and Amadeus knew she was set on him. He’d become pretty good at evading traps females set for him. Thought Lady Stafford was a fine-looking woman. Amadeus was uninterested in taking a wife. For the last three hundred years, he’d walked this earth a bachelor ever since his mistress fell at the hands of a slayer.

For fifteen hundred years, Amadeus was companion and protector for his maker, a master vampire that had been very old when she turned him. When they had met, she was posing as a slave in the Pharaoh’s harem. As a woman, she had trouble getting through life on her own. No matter what era it was or what kingdom she was in, as a woman, she was deemed lesser and often ignored and taken advantage of. She had lost her companion fifty years prior and had desired a replacement. She had told him the moment she saw him. She knew she wanted him.

For hundreds of years, Amadeus was at her side, often posing as her master, but in reality, she was the dominating one in the relationship. He had followed Rocroc around the world, doing everything she ever asked of him. For many years they had been lovers, and he had been hopelessly devoted to her. The night Rocroc died had been the hardest night of his endless life.

They had been in a pagan country, and the men of the land took significant issue with the fact that Amadeus and Rocroc were not of the same visible race. They deduced she was his lover and had invaded their home in the dead of night to drag her out into the street and stone her, but they had not been prepared for what they were met with. Rocroc and Amadeus had fought back, and while Amadeus tore apart many men that night, he had been unable to prevent one man from cutting Rocroc’s head off. Amadeus had reached her just in time to see her head fall at his feet. Amadeus had lost it in that moment and had not only killed the man that had taken his mistress from him, but he had stalked through the village murdering everyone in sight. That night he had been driven by rage and grief. For that night, he was the angel of death.

The following years to come had been filled with guilt. Amadeus was a soldier for many regimes over the years. He’d taken many lives both on the battlefield and off, but he’d always been very selective, killing only those that deserved to die. He’d never killed indiscriminately good men, women, even children. That night had blackened whatever was left of his soul, and he’d spent the rest of his life alone and doing penance trying to cleanse himself and recapture that part of humanity he’d lost that terrible night.

For a long time, he’d been alone in this world. Since he was a man in a man’s world, he didn't require a protector as Rocroc had, and his guilt prevented him from making another like himself. A hundred and fifty years ago, Amadeus had taken a mortal companion. He had rescued a young man from certain death, and the man had been so grateful to Amadeus he had sworn to be Amadeus’ caretaker. He protected Amadeus when he slept, and he had even offered himself so Amadeus could stop killing. He fed on the man every day, taking just enough to sustain himself without killing him.

Kindred had names for people like this; they called them familiars. He’d kept his familiar until he was old and grey and no longer able to serve. Amadeus had preferred the lifestyle he’d become accustomed to. So, he searched the world for another and since his first Amadeus had taken four familiars. His latest familiar was one Phillip Bellomy. A man Amadeus had met in Paris. He had found Phillip as a child who had been turned out into the street and was starving to death.

Amadeus had taken Phillip in, and in gratitude, for Amadeus’ care, Phillip had become his’ servant and friend. Poor Phillip was now a man of sixty and was growing weary. Soon he would need to be replaced. As Phillip aged, his spirit was willing, but his body was frail. Amadeus was forced to feed less and less each passing year to keep the poor man alive. Essentially, Amadeus was starving himself. Starvation was never good. Starvation led to deaths. After eighteen hundred long years, Amadeus had become a master and was capable of controlling his thirst and basic predatory instincts, but even for masters, there was a point where even they could no longer deny their need to feed. Amadeus was getting closer and closer to that point.

Amadeus sat at the table listening to his host brag about his pretty little daughter while they ate. Amadeus ate to keep up appearances, but he didn’t need food. It was an unnecessary habit, but it still tasted good. He didn’t eat much, but what he did eat, he enjoyed. Mostly sweets. Sweets were no good for the mortal body, but Amadeus’ body never changed. No matter what he did, he never changed. He was stuck in the body he had at the time of his death. He was frozen in time. He was very old, but he didn’t look a day over thirty.

Since, at the time of his passing, he had been an active soldier, his body was broad and muscled. Characteristic for the men of his time but unusual for men of this era, men now weren’t really men. Some were so thin and undefined, while others were short and fat, small weak men that would never last five minutes on a battlefield.

It was strange to sit with the elite. In his life, Amadeus had been the youngest son of a lowly farmer. He had seven brothers, and there was little food to go around. When he was ten, he was taken by the King’s guard, as were many other boys and trained for years to be unstoppable loyal to the core soldier willing to kill without question and die without hesitation. He was poor and unimportant. He had centuries to accumulate vast wealth and was now considered nobility.

He was, however, forced to move around a lot. He had to move on before people began to get suspicious of him. Before they began to notice the fact that he never seemed to age. He often faked his death and, in his will, left everything he had to his estranged nephew in some other city and country. Then he would move to that country, set up a house and pose as the nephew inheriting his uncle’s estate. He had done it many times, and it always worked. He always hired a barrister he’d never met so that they didn’t notice nephew and uncle were the same man. His familiars often did the footwork for him to see his estate was transferred without trouble.

Over the years, Amadeus had reinvented himself as nobility. He wasn’t, but he had the papers of origin foraged, and after the title had passed a few times from childless uncle to long lost nephew, the lie had become an accepted traceable truth. He had been the Count of Moreau for almost a hundred years now. He must admit he preferred the life of the elite to the life of a soldier. He was his own master now.

Amadeus didn’t talk much throughout dinner. A trait Lady Stafford seemed to find appealing because she seemed to love to hear herself talk. In fact, she never stopped talking; he was amazed she could even take the time between sentences to breathe. She was a pretty thing, but nothing that sparked his fire. Amadeus had seen so many beautiful women over the years, and one thing never seemed to change. They were always easy on the eyes, but they had no substance. Sure, they suited his need for carnal attention, but beyond the bed, a woman had to have a personality, and so few did. It was why he never took a female as his familiar. He wanted a companion, and frankly, though he enjoyed a soft, supple body, Amadeus preferred the company of men. At least with men, he could have a conversation that wasn’t focused on dresses and drapery.

Rocroc had been the only woman he could talk to. Though she hadn’t been educated formally, she was intelligent, perhaps because she’d lived so long that she had learned so much or perhaps because he had known so little and relied on her to guide him.

When dinner was concluded, Amadeus found himself grateful for the reprieve. He didn’t think he could smile and nod any longer without going insane. The guests moved back to the ballroom where the orchestra played, and those gathered danced the night away.

“Lord Granger,” Lady Stafford said, lacing her arm with his boldly. “You, good Sir, are first on my dance card.”

Amadeus smiled politely. “It would be a pleasure of mine to dance with the Lady of the night,” he said, turning around and taking Lady Stafford in his arms, keeping her at a respectable distance. The dancing edict had changed over the years, but Amadeus liked it much more now. Depending on who his partner was, he could be polite and distant or attentive and close. It was a perfect excuse to hold a woman. Amadeus waltzed the Lady around the room with the other dances, but he kept looking over her shoulder, scanning the crowd, trying to find the only woman at the party to have interested him. He spotted her near the orchestra, fanning herself with a white hand fan. All the bodies in the room must have been making her hot. Personally, Amadeus couldn’t tell he didn’t feel temperature like mortals did. So long as he fed, he could pass for human with warm flesh, but when he’d gone days without eating, he became anemic and cold like a body ready for burial.

The music ended, and Amadeus released Lady Stafford. He bowed respectfully and then excused himself. Amadeus made his way through the crowd pausing briefly when spoken to. He was stopped for a moment by a group of young men who wished to discuss politics with him, but Amadeus cared little about politics. To him, the years passed by so fast, and he’d seen a million governments rise and fall, so he found it best not to bother himself with the goals of the current government because tomorrow it would be replaced by another.

He briefly allowed the men to talk, and when asked his opinion, Amadeus spouted a generic speech that he’d been giving for many years. It always applied to whatever government was presently in power, and it supported both sides of every argument and left people wondering what he stood for. It was filled with large words, so most people didn’t ask questions out of fear of looking stupid. He rambled off his rehearsed speech and then excused himself and continued on his way. He reached the place he’d last seen Lady Lock, but she had moved on.

Amadeus noticed the doors to the garden were open slightly. If she were hot, it would make sense that she might seek the cool caress of the evening air. He made his way to the doors and slipped out onto the terrace.