He searched for Ingolsol's aura, to see where it had been concentrating, to find that point in which the despair was thick enough so that he could attempt to manifest himself… and his eyes were drawn to an angry-looking boy, his eyes swimming with shards of gold and purple.
"Lord?" Francis asked on instinct. For a second, he thought that the boy had been possessed.
"If I were your Lord, I would have you skinned," Beam said. He'd never uttered such black words before. He'd never physically wished to torture a man to deal, to tear his fingernails from his fingers, and to gauge out his eyes in a slow display of mercilessness. But with Francis, it was different. He could feel it so strongly – that thing that drove Francis. He understood it. And it infuriated him.