CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kyle loved watching the night fall. This was his favorite time of day, especially as he went further back in time, as he watched all the simple human folk close up their shops, board up their shutters, scurry to their homes, as if terrified of the dark. The further back in time he went, the more afraid people seemed to be of the night.

And of course, they had reason to fear.

This was the favorite time of day for people like Kyle, and for his entire race. As dusk fell, that creepy feeling that the humans began to feel was indeed the feeling of his kind awakening. Kyle never felt so energized as he did at dusk, so ready to head out there and wreak whatever damage he could.

Kyle reached down and touched the dozens of vials of plague he had stored safely in his pouch, and a reassured smile crossed his face. Standing there, in the heart of London, he looked at the bustling crowds before him, all these pathetic little humans who had no idea what was about to come, the storm that he, singl