David followed, but hung back a little, seeming at a loss. Kristian felt the savage wrench of pain, felt the blood bubbling in the wound, choking him. And sometimes she was sure her mother was actually beside her, the cool hand on her forehead not imagined but truly felt. Charlotte's eyes were a grey-violet glaze sealing in a void of misery, but still she didn't cry.
No, said Karl. But it was not beauty they were seeing but the vampire aura, burning through their perceptions. They seemed normal again, but the vision tormented her; his savagely open mouth and the thorn-cruel fangs… Impossible to grasp. Even Anne seemed reserved, if not hostile.
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