THE UNSEEN it begins•rest in peace

Prologue

She had deceived him!
   He realized now with a terrible certainty that she'd deceived him from the beginning-planned this whole thing from the very start.
   And she knew everything about him-everything!-what he was and what he'd done and all he was capable of doing . . .
She'd sought him out and gained his trust, for one purpose and one purpose only.
   To see him destroyed.
   After he'd been so careful . . . concealing the very nature of his soul . . . the ageless secrets of his kind . . .
   And he'd trusted her. Taken her. Loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone.
    Tears clouded his vision.
   As though he were seeing the future through a dark red haze, a veil of blood.
   He glanced down at his hands.
   His strong, gentle fingers, wielding the power of life and death.
   He hadn't even realized he was gripping the dagger, the dagger of his ancestors, nor did the remember even drawing it from his sheath.
   He was gripping the blade so tightly that a stream of blood seeped from his fist.
He watched it, strangely mesmerized, as it dripped onto the cold stone floor and pooled around his feet.
   He hadn't thought he could feel such pain.
   Not from the knife, for he had borne far worse injuries than this in his lifetime, had suffered the ravages of a thousand tortures. But those scars had faded quickly, like shadows swallowed by night, and the few that remained were points of honor to him now, sacred testimonies to his very survival.
   No, this pain was different.
   This pain burned from deep within, filling him with rage and crawling for revenge.
   A craving so intense, he could almost taste it.