The blood drinkers were in flames, dying, caught in a hideous dance with twisted arms and legs. The house itself was burning, rafters smoking, glass bottles exploding, orange sparks shooting up to the lowering sky.

Had he done this! Was he death to the others, whether he willed such a thing or not?

Blood tears flowed down his white face onto his stiff white shirt front. He lifted his arm to shield his face with his cloak. It was a gesture of respect for the horror happening before him - the blood drinkers dying within.