His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. Lucy complied, slipping the tight jeans over her white underwear. For her it was sufficient to know that somebody wanted her, that never again would she be alone, that always this boy with the dreams would be depending upon her. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. The amazing tonic of the thought! From time to time she laid her hand upon Spurlock's forehead: it was still cold. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. “I truly am a vampire, John. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. “Round midnight, I think. ” He crossed himself and grinned.
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