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OLD LOVES

Genevieve could look after herself and Bond was trained for this sort of thing Beauregard told himself he shouldn&039;t worry about them It was probably not worth Brastov&039;s while to have theon-happy times At the very least, Winthrop would insist on reprisals - their top man in London, probably - and that was how cold wars heated up Unless so stupid, they&039;d be back before dawn

Of course, there was always roo hiham Palace in 1888, after they had delivered to the Queen the instrument she would use to free herself from Dracula, the silver scalpel of Jack the Ripper He was badly wounded, and they were surrounded by the erous creatures in Europe They&039;d had help, of course, inside and outside the palace, but had only barely escaped

He&039;d thought he was going to die At thirty-five, he&039;d been better prepared for it than he was now

&039;Charles, I can save you,&039; she&039;d whispered urgently, before biting into her wrist and bringing forth the bright blood &039;Charles, darling, drink Turn, and live&039;

That was the closest it had coiven him an extra twenty years of youth It would&039;ve been so easy to drink He didn&039;t even knohy he hadn&039;t

&039;You don&039;t have to be like hi Dracula &039;You don&039;t have to be like led a farewell, &039;I love you forever&039;

And she repeated, &039;Forever?&039;

Then, with dutiful anticliot better He didn&039;t die and return as a vaot on with the work of booting Dracula out of Britain, rose in his profession, fought other battles, got old, got tired, tried to keep up, came to Rome

Why?

Because of hiuard against his return to power When he died, others - Winthrop, mostly, perhaps Genevieve - would take over the task, and perhaps keep il principe off the world stage forever

Forever?

Was anything forever?

He had loved Genevieve in 1888, and he still loved her in 1959 That see Pa

This close to the end, he was still learning Through reason and eht be true for most of vampirekind, Genevieve was alive in every sense that counted And she was not alone Kate too could grow to be that kind of elder

He wasn&039;t leaving the world to the walking dead

Over the years, Genevieve had bled hiain pressing her blood upon him Once, as Genevieve had offered herself to hi the First World War, when she was bled dry, he had given her his wrist and said, &039;Go ahead, pretty creature, drink&039;

Then, in 1918, Genevieve was on the other side of the world At least part of the reason he let Kate bleed hi and draining He could admit that now It did not feel like faithlessness

The coth, and Kate too To her he owed the most, for she&039;d always jostled for a place in his life, never quite co to the front If it hadn&039;t been for he and Kate ht have

As much as the Queen, Kate needed to be freed To be free of hirow Perhaps, of their group, she was the only real hero, because everything was difficult for her

The strong-arm creature had struck him across the face, probably no ard&039;s brains had taken a good shaking The lights were going out

All this thought of the past

That was dying This hat dying was like

At last

&039;I suppose I&039;m the last woman you expected to see, Charles&039;

Pamela?

He opened his eyes and found he was still in his body, in his chair, in his flat

&039;That French person is clearly an inadequate housekeeper&039;

She stood at the doorway of the study, looking with distaste at the knocked-over bookcases, the scatter of golem detritus, and the disarrayed furniture

Not Pamela

&039;Penelope Penny&039;

Every time he saw her, it was a shock Very slowly, she&039;d lost her girlishness, had sharpened and grown sleeker, into the ie of her cousin, his wife He understood why he had nearly reat unkindness

She had fed recently He could tell frolect, as &039;s blood, turned her into a predator?

She stepped into the rooht-sided some chairs

&039;You are very old, Charles I should have expected that&039;

She picked up the bookcase and propped it in its place Then, with undead swiftness, she put books back on the shelves, in any old order She just wanted thee the, Penny&039;

She paused and looked at him &039;And whose fault is that, Charles? No one need die Not really&039;

&039;No, Penny I&039; now&039;

A wash of expression disrupted Penelope&039;s red-lipped priirl again, arranging her dolls because there was safety in tidiness, retreating froht hurt her

&039;I am sorry, Charles&039;

She was like a schoole whose tears are his own fault and ill have to learn to sleep in the bed he has made for himself

&039;No, I&039;m sorry,&039; she continued, actually flustered &039;I didn&039;t mean that It&039;s difficult for me to mean what I mean That sounds absurd It is I&039;m not a monster I&039;ve tried to be, but I&039;m not I feel for you As much as I can&039;