She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. ‘You make a game with me, I think. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. What was to hinder me, if I had been so inclined, from directing them to your retreat?" "Enough," replied Darrell.
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