“I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. “And yet I do it without compunction. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk.
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