It Sang to Him

The blood pooled at his feet. Coppery and sweet, it sang to him, called his name and begged him to feast. But, no. It was not the time to feast Not yet. There would be plenty of time later to relax and enjoy the merriment of the slaughter.

For now there were humans screeching for help as loud as their lungs would allow and they ran from his companions, desperate, their blood pumping. Delicious. William's face dripped with blood and somewhere in another part of the mansion, Darla and Dru were off taunting and tormenting some dear old soul, the poor thing.

Angelus was content with waiting by the doorway and snapping the necks of all those who entered. It satisfied the part of him that craved mayhem and panic and pain. He glanced at his latest victim and his stomach growled. The man was all over the floor though, and he could hear a feminine heart beat coming his way.

He waited, a smile on his face.