Kaleigha looked down at her handiwork and smiled. It felt so good to see the woman dead! Part of her buzzed with delight. Another part, powerful and ecstatic, wanted to kill again. She turned to the man.
“No,” the man stuttered, backing away. “Come out of it, Kaleigha. Don’t ruin this.”
Kaleigha laughed at him. She could smell his fear. It was sour and puny, just like his frame. She lunged at the man.
“Help!” he cried as he fled. “Someone, please! Help me!”
No help came. Soon the man was on the floor, face frozen in terror, floating in a pool of blood.
“Now you’ve done it.”
Kaleigha turned to see the ghost of the woman standing over her body.
“Kasim was the last living descendant of your father’s blood,” the woman folded her arms over her chest and glared at Kaleigha. “Your father will be very pleased.”
The mention of her father silenced the buzz and halted her urge to kill.
“It’s not her fault,” the risen Kasim came forward to stand by Kaleigha. “The rage is… was a flaw in our bloodline. That is why there is…were so few of us.”
“You’re right,” the woman looked disgusted. “This is your fault. We should have clamp her in chains the moment she entered the park.”
“She is my sister,” Kasim said. “She is hope, not a prisoner.”
“Not anymore,” the woman said. “We’re both dead and no closer to our goal than we were ten years ago.”