How long shall I be kept in this bed?" "That's particularly up to you. It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off. Parbleu, but she was a fool. Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. And Pottiswick, of course.
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