“What were you trying to do?” Lucy asked. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. She could not say who, not yet. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. Bête, she told herself fiercely. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall.
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