I walked out of my house this evening and found that people were talking about “getting orphans” and “holiday spirit.” I must confess that my first thought was “snacks?” Instinct is instinct, even when we would rather see our better halves in control.
Then I caught the news broadcast, and I expect that even death would be kinder than that horrid orphanage.
Faustus seems to agree. He’s the sweet little child they handed me when I inquired at the gate. Careless, really, placing the little ones in the care of strange vampires – or strange humans, for that matter – without inquiring into their character. But he is a dear. Didn’t seem afraid of me at all, or of Lysander. “Once I saw a coffin that looked wonderful to rest in,” he told me.