” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. As for loving you, I do. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. But before he could say anything, the vehicle rolled to a halt. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them.
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