” She smiled at him. You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. She was listed for the raid—she was informed it was to be a raid upon the House of Commons, though no particulars were given her—and told to go alone to 14, Dexter Street, Westminster, and not to ask any policeman to direct her. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague.
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