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The wind makes you ache in some place that is deeper than your bones. It may be that it touches something old in the human soul, a chord of race memory that says Migrate or die - migrate or die.
Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym...
Hi, Suze, where you headed?
Oh, just up to the old Marsten place to kill a vampire. But I have to hurry because supper's at six.