She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. “What about blood banks? Have you ever tried them?” “I don’t just take blood, John. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. ’ Leonardo had taught her that. . It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. Here and there, patches of flesh adhered to the bones, and the dank dripping hair hanging about what had once been the face, gave it a ghastly appearance.
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