” Lucy embraced Michelle and pierced her neck with elongated canines, one hand clamped over Michelle’s biting, screaming mouth. “So far you’ve got me and I you. ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. Critically, she stared at her own features. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders.
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