Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. ‘What was you wanting it for, may I ask?’ ‘You may not ask, for it is none of your affair,’ Melusine snapped. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly. I am called Melusine. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. "Don't scourge me," she cried, trying to hide herself in the farthest corner of the cell.
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