He was the monster waiting in the darkness, crouched in the space beneath the bed, hiding in the blackest recesses of the child’s bedroom closet. He was the tree limb clawing at the window glass in the moonlight, and he was the ghostly footfall in the attic as the house slowly settled for the evening. Crimson eyes opened, nostrils flaring as something moved outside of the cave—something that was not his little pet. Jaws parting wide, connecting only by thin, gleaming tendrils of saliva, he hissed softly, slowly shifting to a low crouch. It was not his beloved, though the scent was familiar—he’d met this creature before. Gabriel!, screamed the voice, laughing shrilly. He was close to Gabriel’s nest, and this creature reeked of his half-brother.
Claws digging trenches in the dirt, he slowly, tentatively crept forward—breath tearing past his teeth in a quiet snarl. The light would burn his eyes, he knew. One touch of sunlight and he’d burst into flames. Suddenly, he sprang into sight, screeching like a banshee as he lunged. Eyes wide and mad, he snapped his teeth together, emitting a loud snarl. Fur bristling, back arched, he swayed slightly from side to side before all motion ceased. “Gabriel,” he hissed, his voice ragged. “Darling Gabriel made you,” he purred, silence following this proclamation as vision narrowed.