Frenzied. Terrified. Trapped.
The world was not as he knew it. Was not what he'd believed in. He'd been wrong. All these years. Wasting his time on chasing criminals who weren't criminals.
The loathsome touch – on his mind? His soul? – was depraved and rancid with darkness. It whispered to him of acts unspeakably hideous, showed him visions of evil incarnate, traced fire through his nervous system, chortled at his reactions.
How many, he wondered? How many had he condemned who'd been just like this? Taken over. Raped of mind and body. Ridden.
So many, the answering whisper licked against him.