‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. . shouldn’t be friends. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly.
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