” “Is she the one who made you into a vampire?” “Yes. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. Because I’m younger than you. . ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow. Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth.
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