“Not at all. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. ‘I thought, you see, that we might as well enter by the same way our intruder had done. Oh, you must believe me. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging. Annabel ignored both the chair and the invitation. She had even tried a needle and a catheter on a victim once, but had found that the process was so frustrating and slow that she barely gained any sustenance and had done the worst thing imaginable: wasted a kill.
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