He stood outside the house, his body lighter than air, filled with the blood of his latest victim. So, Chiavari had made the woman his wife. That was a rather interesting turn of events.
He had thought to end it quickly, to destroy Chiavari once and for all. Ramsey was no longer a threat. The woman could be taken at any time. But she was Chiavari's wife now...
He stared at the house for a long while, his hatred growing, swelling, spreading through him. After the battle in the cellar, he had gone to ground to heal his wounds and nurse his rage. It had taken weeks for the gaping hole left by the wooden stake to heal. Ramsey, damn his soul to hell, had soaked the wood in holy water.
It was time to raise the ante, to bring the game to a close. He was weary of this modern world, of the constant rush, the noise, the pollution that stung his nostrils and burned his eyes. He yearned for the romantic days of the past, for the elaborate costumes, the pageantry, the ignorance of the common people.
Tomorrow, he mused, tomorrow he would send Chiavari a surprise, and when the vampire was dead, he would take the woman.
