“I wish you would not do it. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. Well, it's scarcely credible.
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