The wight looked nothing like the man who'd died in the cemetery. His skin was pale as moonlight, almost translucent. His fingers had elongated into claws that gleamed in the streetlight. But it was those eyes that made Kaine's blood freeze—they glowed with a dull red light, like coals in a dying fire.
Chad's attention was fixed entirely on the robbers, his head tilted at an unnatural angle as he studied them. When he smiled, his teeth were sharp and far too numerous.
"Oh, fuck," Kaine whispered.
The robbers took one look at the creature and scattered like roaches when the lights came on. Their leader stumbled backward, his gun forgotten as he tripped over his own feet in his haste to get away. The others followed, their coordinated swagger replaced by pure animal terror.
Smart move.
