’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. “John, don’t!” she cried. "It was the story of a man, so to speak, who had left his vitals in his native land and wandered strange paths emptily. I don’t care what else there is in the world. Shari was snoring soundly. Diane seemed more interested in the prestige of her violin skills than in the more sordid subject of her vampirism. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Would Gerald wish his friend to follow the man? He had hardly registered the decision that he had best do so, albeit with some reluctance, when his trained senses alerted him to an extraordinary circumstance. My father died a year ago, by the way. They sold him the whisky. All his dreams shattered in an instant. “Please call me Carol.
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