"You must not remain here," he said. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. So let me assure you now that we are not accusing you of a crime. He had always warned her explicitly about turning others into vampires. It was her figure, her style of dress, her manner of arranging the hair. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. ‘For kissing you, or for not meaning to do so?’ ‘Imbecile,’ exclaimed Melusine impatiently. I’ve got a streak of male.
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