Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Lucy cringed, her eyes widening. ’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. ” “Anything except that,” he murmured.
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