The predawn sunlight woke her. Her lover was warm. He shouldn’t have been warm. Last night, even in the throws of violent passion, he had been cold. She heard the sound of a glass vial hitting the floor. Ah, the pumpkin vial from the gypsy witch. Drinking the paralytic had worked then, and she hadn’t died after all. She looked at her lover. He was still paralyzed from drinking her blood.

She fell out of bed, and as she crawled naked across the floor to safety, Lady Ella smiled. This monster killed my mother. Now, he will meet the sun.