Recollect that. My concept of the reluctant vampire sprung from a rabid obsession with medieval history, especially the pre-Renaissance era of the Black Plague. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. “In a sense—yes. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind. The aunt laughed.
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