She was too late. Death belongs to God, young man. ” Sebastian snorted. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. She throws a sort of spell over us all. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn, seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their power.
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