She withdrew her mouth and patted his penis dry with the bottom of his shirttails. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. . She raided their settlements in shifts, staggering her kills from tribe to tribe, undiscriminating of their petty politics. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. ” She massaged him.
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