” The wonderful likeness between the two girls was never less noticeable than at that moment. ‘Étes-vous Francais?’ Her eyes, he noted, followed from himself to Hilary and back again, but she did not speak. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. Her heart thudded. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house.
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