Kristian sent his flock far and wide each day to bring victims to replenish the supply. Charlotte seemed stretched thin by what was happening, like glass held up to the light. His face was bone-pale, his expression blankly demonic. The air was frosted with the stench of damp stone and age.
Normally she would have soldiered through it, but this time she gave herself into the kingdom of fever and dark dreams as if into the arms of a lover. No sense of her self. midnight she would sit waiting for him, watching the ever-swaying shadows of the garden from the darkness of her room. But it was terrible.
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