The fight is brief and one sided.

"She glamoured you? Well, shit." Lars narrowed his eyes, inspecting Claire cautiously now, and his hostility increased. "Who the fuck are you? No way you could control a kindred Kesha's age unless you have at least a century on her."

"Yeah, well, she can't pull that trick on more than one of us at the same time," Mikey pointed out, sounding furious. "Giving Kesha the blood kiss while she was glamoured means she crossed a line, man. Poaching some human vitae we could let slide with a warning, but violating another Kindred without provocation is a different level entirely. Nobody will argue we were not within our rights to fuck her up, even if we ended her for real."

"Simmer down, Mikey, final **** ain't a threat to throw out lightly," Lars said calmly. "Sure, we need to mess her up good, drain her and break enough that she'll take days to heal up. The court will have to decide if she lives or dies, though."

Claire followed the conversation, a confident calmness settling over her from some inner source that she was certain was not her own. She could feel the tension in her muscles, a fight response waiting to be unleashed, with flight not even considered. She gave Kesha a shove, her strength enough to send the vampire windmilling backwards several feet and flat on her back near the alley wall.

"You stay out of this, girl. I don't like my toys broken," The words came from Claire's mouth, but the motivation behind them came from that presence within her that had acted and drank Kesha's blood and had given her the name Carmilla. "Peasants! Walk away now while you still can, or fight. I grow weary of your inane threats."

Mikey attacked first, clearly the more hotheaded of the two vampires. He rushed forward, swinging a right-handed haymaker with supernatural strength. Claire felt the presence inside her rise up and take control. She caught Mikey's fist before it landed, her delicate palm stopping his meaty fist dead in the air at arm's length. She gripped the fist tightly and twisted her hand. There was a sickening crack as bones snapped in his wrist, and his forearm bent at an unnatural angle. The stocky kindred let out a howl of pain, his eyes wide with shock as he saw his mutilated arm.

"Bitch!" Lars cursed and came at her a split second later.

Lazily, Claire turned her head, and her lips creased into a grin that exposed her fangs. Her left hand swept up as Lars reached to grab her by the throat. She did not even ball her fist to punch him, simply slapped him away backhanded as if he was an insect bothering her. He launched off his feet and sailed across the alley, crashing off the wall with a crunch that could only have been ribs cracking from the impact. Turning back to Mikey, Claire released his fist and motioned with her fingers to shoo him away. He backed off a few feet, cradling his broken wrist protectively. Lars was just rising from the ground, clutching his side and wincing.

"Enough," Claire declared imperiously. "Go inform your court, Carmilla Von Karstein is in your city. I will attend your Prince or whoever rules here when a formal invite has been extended."