Predictably, Charvill turned on him. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. She recognized the cloth at once, waylaid him, and with that directness of speech particularly hers she explained what she wanted. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. .
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