“I truly am a vampire, John. Father had traveled to Florence to the Mercato Nuovo, staying away for a half year at a time paying court to the house of the silk merchant Iovelli, which was patronized by none other than the Medicis. Melusine came close again, and reached up a finger tentatively to the face depicted there. Wild, Captain?" remonstrated the other, in a deferential tone. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. I’ve loved her for two years, I love her now.
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