Vilisant waited in the darkness under the world as they flowed through the house. So long as he remained still, he should be safe.
One of them brushed against him, darkness sliding past darkness, and a chill went through him. He had never been certain if he truly had a body here, but whatever he had didn't move, didn't reveal him. It might not be as simple as mind and body, but his reaction didn't betray his presence. He waited.
One of them swept past the chains, and he felt it tangle. Now, he thought, and moved back into the world.
He couldn't see it, even here. It was a blazing darkness, wrapped in the chains meant for him. It writhed without moving.
Vilisant felt his hands twist into claws, his mouth widen and his fangs lengthen. He leapt, clawing and biting, tearing away chunks that were more shadow than substance. If they only had blood-- He was not first to have that thought. If they bled, he could kill them. If they bled, he could drain them. If they bled, he could take their power and turn it against them.
Instead, he would have to do it the hard way... and he had no time for that. The others were all around. They were approaching now, though their paths were not straight. He leapt back, landed in the front hall, and threw himself at the locks on the door. Shadows moved around him as he turned the knobs and opened the door. Desperate, he threw a hand out and flipped on the lights: the front walk, and the front hallway. The not-quite-sounds of screaming silence filled that part of his awareness that wasn't quite his ears as he flung the door open and stepped out into the night.
They were still behind him, following in their twisting, erratic way. He couldn't return to his clan, not with them so close. It would trigger an invasion that might even succeed. No, he would have to lose himself in Twilight, first.
Gritting his teeth, he fled into the night. He hated visiting Twilight. Damn that woman anyway, he thought. If she'd come along, I wouldn't need to do this...