He began to tell me something—and stopped. The doors were closed and barricaded, and the mob threatened to burst them open if Jack was not delivered to them. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime. . . ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm.
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