she tells of bringing the gurkha blade down and relishing the thunk of it getting buried in a skull , the wicked enjoyment of it , the heinous illusion that her death-mongering was righteous , that her touch was a sword of light-and the passion , the deep down lust that drove her to strike out to the right and left , as though her body were hungry for death-as though she had become one of them and would consume black death and eat the very souls of the living if she knew where to find them .