They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. It was Blueskin. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. He had not had time to aim the pistol. Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. “I was surprised, I admit,” he said.
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