and now she could appear as a ghostlike figure wherever he sent her. If all went as he planned she’d help bring him the woman they both sought, but she made such a fuss about it he’d almost made up his mind to kill her once she’d gotten him what he wanted. She had limited usefulness, and apparently unlimited trouble in her.
Sometimes he killed the children at the moment they expected to be transformed, slashing their throats and letting their blood pour into his hands before he fed. He’d make the other children watch. It increased their respect and let him drink their fear, allowing him to experience the terror of death the only way he could—vicariously.
Perhaps this little girl who bit would give him that thrill someday. Now she had work to do for him. He pressed a hand against her forehead, felt her readiness to begin.
“There, my little angel,” he said. “Go out and play. The Jaguar is waiting to see you.”
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