“That cloistered school did not take students her age,” Clara interrupted. “She was old enough to start her training at The Tower.”
The screen prevented her from gaining insight on his facial tics. For all she knew, he was sticking his tongue at her… Like I used to do during confessions as a child…
She did pick up on any changes in angle and distance. When his head got smaller and changed position, she concluded that Father Michael must have pushed his head in shock. Her response was clearly not something he expected… I doubt anything I’ve said so far has…
“Did you ever catch up with Drusilla?” Clara asked.
The memory of that ancient vampire slicing open his neck and draining him dry came to mind. She was curious how much history had to change to be once again in his presence… I could certainly do without being a prostitute…
“Who is that?” Father Michael asked.
“Ask Reverend Mother Augustine…”
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
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