His mind conjured tortuous visions - his precious Brenda broken and still, those loving eyes forever dimmed. His heart contracted painfully at such thoughts.
"Some force most foul and corrupt has dared lay claim to what is mine," Malcolm declared, each word dripping venom. "Its unholy taint sullies her very essence."
His fangs gleamed like daggers in the gloom. "When I find the architect of this outrage, I shall tear its corrupt seed from existence..."
His voice faded to a bestial growl as he sampled the air once more, his glacial eyes narrowing to slits. The source of this profanity drew ever nearer.
As that defiled floral scent grew stronger, twisted by death's own perfume, Tristan felt dread take root in his soul. What manner of horror waited at the end of this accursed trail?
So c
