“ ‘Quinn, Quinn, my pupil,’ she said in her loving voice, a voice I’d heard before so seldom from her. ‘I want you to go forth strong and on your own. So take my harsh lessons. Read their minds. Use the Spell Gift to charm. You’re hungry for them. Yes, yes, there, my pupil. Use your gifts and take the scent of their blood as your guiding genius.’

“I found myself staring at the hard-speaking one. Into her mind I did look. I saw her evil, her casual and vicious disconnect from the human herd, her brittle, cheap egocentricity. And as I drew close to her, her face was smooth, her eyes large and empty, as if I had put out my hand to her and stilled her. Her partner in crime had slunk away and with the boy moved across the room. She was all mine, deserted, enthralled, unprotesting. There was nothing but peace in her now.

“ ‘Devour the evil,’ said Petronia, near to me like my Bad Angel. ‘Eat it and make it into your clean and everlasting blood.’

“The girl had gone limp. She tumbled, silky and hot into my arms. Her head went to one side. Her mind was broken like the stem of a thorny rose. I kissed her throat. And then I sank my teeth and I felt her rich delicious blood pour forth, saltier than that of my vampire teachers, somehow more pungent, and there came the wretched story of her life, putrid, common, indecent. I sought the lush taste of the blood only. I sought the rich thick flow of the blood alone. I repudiated the images. I turned my heart away from her heart. I turned my senses only to the thick seasoned blood, and then Petronia was pulling me back, and the girl was lying at my feet, a crumpled corpse with large empty black eyes, such lovely eyes, and blood all over her neck, and Petronia said,

“ ‘You’ve spilt the blood, look at it. Bend down now and catch all of it on your tongue. Clean the wound until nothing remains.’

“I knelt down and lifted her. I did as I was told.

“ ‘Make a cut in your own tongue,’ said Petronia, ‘and with a drop of your own blood seal the wound until it disappears.’

“I was intent as I did this. I watched the tiny punctures vanish, and then the girl, pale-faced and purplish, fell limp to the tiles as I let her go.

“I rose groggily. Again, I was the drunk man. The most common object or surface seemed to pump with life.

“In a daze I reached out for Adonis. I said, ‘I thank you for your kindnesses to me.’ He was too afraid to answer. He paused, merely staring at me as though I’d forced him to do it, and then I turned away.