She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. ‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. “Why just take her limbs? Why not poison her, like me?” “Because, if you remember, she turned me into a vampire.
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