“If I thought for a moment that there was any chance of a relapse, I should stop here and tell him the truth even now. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. As they left Florence, dying men and women still scrabbled through the streets, screams emanating from the rows of houses, beggars running up to the horses, sick children in their arms, their eyes bleeding, their noses running, begging to join them in their journey out. Each was draped in transparent silk, dancing, beckoning to me, teasing me. After all—’ ‘Yes, but I do not wish to see him,’ Melusine protested. Wood and Thames taking their places on either side of it, and Jack at a little distance behind.
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