It seemed strange, feeling sorry for his brother. The older one, with the Midas touch; the one who always did everything right, rode high as the sky, while Ted had to run like the night just to stand still. But daylight scorched those golden wings and fate had dealt its blow.
Ted kneeled over the sleeping form, pale face, dark-shadowed brow. The cold crypt air whispered with dreams. Candle-light flickered and drips of tallow fell.
Suddenly Daniel’s eyes opened red. Fangs bled. Ted drove the stake, with sad intent, into his heart.
It seemed strange, feeling sorry for his brother.