When he recovered his mental faculties, he would lie there, neutral; they could save him or let him die, as they pleased; and the doctor knew that he would wear himself out forcing his own will to live into this neutrality. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly.
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