Page 5 of Midnight Coven

The Stranger never considered such a thing for himself.

The mere thought of it only made that human life feel further away.

It only made him feel more dead.

Hewasdead.

He had been dead a long time.

Worse, he was a dead animal… no longer a man, as a man needed a soul, even in death. Without his soul, he could only be a beast.

Beasts lived like beasts.

When beasts pretended to be humans, they became abominations.

They became profane.

The frightened, warbling, human sound repeated.

It was a scream.

Too soft for any human to hear, it came from behind a hand clamped over a small mouth. They screamed into their skin and flesh and now he could hear them breathing, too. He could hear the panic slamming their tiny heart against their chest.

He could hear them panting.

He could hear the whimpers and small cries.

He heard so much.

None of it bothered him anymore.

Unlike the other, the Stranger didn’t kid himself about what he was.

Only humans felt distress at the fear and pain of other humans.

He was a beast.

He glided to his feet.

To him, the soft screams and pants and whimpers meant only food.

They meant only purpose.

He had come here to feed for a reason after all.

He’d missed one.

He’d left one of them alive inside.

In his mind, he didn’t see a creature like himself.

He saw a kitten, or perhaps a baby lamb, standing over a dead body and bleating in fear. It cried. It bleated. It mewled. It waited to be rescued. It asked its gods for salvation, for help. It had a soul, but he no longer cared.

It waited to be told the horror in front of it wasn’t real.

But the beast knew it was.

It was real.

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