She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. ’ ‘You mean monsieur le baron, the General Charvill, my grandfather?’ Melusine laid aside on the table the letter she had been studying and turned so that the frame of her nun’s wimple no longer obscured her view. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. They are more base then the animals and cannot be suffered to live, do you understand?” She nodded.
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