There was a gentle rustling of skirts. He was waiting in the outer hall as she tiptoed in. He was an old, skilled vampire. They sat down in a covered pavilion that housed a grimy picnic table and a dingy fire pit. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else.
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