If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. "You can do so. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave.
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