Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. ” Lucy’s eyes smiled and a weary closed lipped smile arose on her face. And, while the turnkey was busy with the keys, she whispered to the black, "Follow him, Caliban.
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