Taking her limbs was the only thing I could do short of killing her. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. Perhaps she did love research for its own sake, she was certainly gifted enough.
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