I thought we were the good guys, he said, and it had that note of a child who finally realizes that sometimes good and evil aren't so much opposites, as two sides of a coin. We were suddenly all moving. The movement put his body farther away from mine, and that helped me think, too. We'll give Malcolm a choice, either he blood oaths everybody, or Jean-Claude does.
I didn't remember him being this wide, not quite this long; of course he hadn't been pressed this tight to his own stomach, as if the very ripeness of his flesh was almost too much to contain. I tasted blood and assumed he'd nicked me with his fangs. The knives are silver. And not just him.
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