There was a hint of tears in her voice. ‘Only you made me lose my temper, and—’ ‘I made you do so? Pah!’ Gerald at last succeeded in ripping the handkerchief from her grasp, and swiftly held it to her neck, oblivious to her now bloodied fingers clawing at his hand. ‘You’d do the same. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. I am sure he would go with you. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian.
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