He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. Melusine turned and turned, unable to imagine just where the secret door could be. Ah Cum was not a sailor, but he knew his water-front.
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