Anger and disgust roiled in his gut. There was nothing he could do. Casimir and his minions were probably gone. The bloody bastards had already done their worst.

Still, he didn’t want to be caught unprepared, so he drew his sword before teleporting inside. He checked the entire building. Empty. He latched the banging door, then returned to pay his respect to the bodies left in a neat row on the braided rug. Seven bodies. Throats slit to conceal bite marks, but not a drop of blood to stain the rug. They’d all been drained dry. Rigor mortis had not set in, so they’d died this evening, probably soon after sunset.

His anger grew, threatening to erupt. His grip tightened knuckle-white on the hilt of his sword. The Malcontents would have used vampire mind control on the campers to force them to submit. Two families, he assumed, since there were two sets of parents. Two lovely mothers. Three beautiful, innocent, young children. The controlled fathers would have watched helplessly while the Malcontents murdered their wives and children.

Rage flooded him, making his heart race. Emotion this intense made the blue of his irises glow, tinting his vision with an ice-cold blue. His fists clenched with the need to kill. Please, let them still be in the caves.

He teleported outside, his claymore raised and ready for battle. He would kill them. Every last one of them.

He stormed down the dirt path that led to the nearby caves. The wind blew stronger, tossing the trees and littering the path with small branches and pinecones. Loose locks of hair whipped across his face. He shoved the strands back and glanced up at the moon. It was an eerie blue, almost completely enshrouded with thick clouds. Good. The darkness would conceal his attack. They’d never know he was coming until his sharp blade plunged through their black hearts.