But Jack was right, they did have company and Braith was itching for a fight. He was itching for blood. He wanted to take his fury and frustration out on someone, and the king’s loyal soldiers were a good start. He slipped silently through the trees with the others, keeping an eye on the shifting shadows as he honed in on his prey. He thought he should be apprehensive about the thrill, the excitement and bloodlust that coursed through him, but he wasn’t. He’d do whatever it took, become whatever was necessary, to get her back. He didn’t care who he had to destroy in order to do it.Crouching behind a tree, he closed his eyes against the distracting shadows. Drawing upon the senses he’d honed during his hundred years of blindness, he was able to get a clearer picture of what was going on around him than if he had been using his broken eyes. His ears alerted him to the approach of the men, his nose picked up their scent long before they reached the crest of the hill. He was silent, as still as stone as he listened and waited for the soldiers to move closer.
Then, as the men rounded the top of the hill, and all he knew was the darkness that the world had become, he slipped from behind the tree and descended upon the men like an avenging demon. Something he feared he might actually become. He felt dark enough to be one, felt hollow and hate filled enough to have come straight from the depths of hell.
As he drove the first soldier into the ground, he realized that he hadn’t slipped into the darkness that a demon would possess. He’d slipped into the darkness that the king possessed. What was inside of him now was what he’d often seen reflected in the eyes of his father. The worst part, he realized as he destroyed first one vampire, and then another, was that he didn’t care. He welcomed it, embraced it, and relished in the death as it briefly calmed his tormented spirit.