The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. How did you discover I was a vampire in the first place?” “I did some research for a few weeks after you got questioned by the police. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all.
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