Kincaid stomped across the makeshift stage and shook one fistabove his head. "Are you going to go to one knee and offer your neck to your butcher, just because he says Father Knows Best? Are you going to pour your heart's fire between the decayed lips of the ancients? " Enthusiastic, powerful cries of "No!" shook the stage, but Kincaid went on as if he couldn't hear them. "Who will inherit this world, this night, this future? Those who have already seen a millennium or two - or those who can do something with their immortality? ARE YOU WILLING TO FIGHT FOR YOUR FREEDOM?"
The answer was a chorus of bone-rattling shouts. Kincaid screamed more fiery words into the crowd, but his heart was cold as ice, except for a growing flame of gloating satisfaction - and anticipation.