The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. The second look told me I was wrong. “I’m only arguing against your position of what a woman should be, and trying to get it clear in my own mind. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her. The day had become suddenly overcast. I would be chased by every curious party on this planet, by vampireseekers, by witch-hunters, by researchers, you name it. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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