Despite him, it was the beauty that she had inherited from her mother they had used to gain the betrothal, and it had not been easy. "He's not my son," rejoined the carpenter. He could not quite make her out; a new type. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. She had finally managed to start breaking him down. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire. " "Not quite, I hope," rejoined Sheppard.
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