The blade through William's shoulder felt as if it were searing his joint. He leaned up against the stone wall. Using all of his might, he forced himself to push the blade out of his back. He let out a painful cry as he heard the knife fumble loudly down the servants' stairs. He had been so close to ending Beatrice's miserable life.
He would have been able to kill her and the child had it not been for that little witch. After he composed himself and the pain subsided enough for him to think straight, he tried to use his healed shoulder and bang the door open. It did not work. Whatever she had put in front of it worked. He knew he could not go back the way he came.
He was not a fool. One of those beings would kill him. He was certain of that fact. He would have to wait until this all settled. He hated to tuck his tail and run off in defeat, but William had no choice.
He would get his revenge. He was a patient man...