She glanced at him. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. But Jack was too nimble for him. I can see the whole thing was just a set-up for sequels, though.
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