Sleep did not come easily to Victoria that night. She tossed for hours, Dr. Liebkind’s warning echoing in her ears: Once you admit him into your home, he may come and go at will. Nonsense, she decided at last–village folklore, nothing else.
But come he did, as she dreamt fitfully–the elegant gentleman who charmed her that evening. Gazing at her pale neck with a deathless hunger, he knelt close to her. “Soon your torment will be over,” he murmured. “Soon you shall be mine.”
There’s a bloodsucker born every minute, Anna W.