Poppy Z. Brite - 1992 - Lost Souls - Plot & Excerpts
Brite - 1992 - Lost Souls Chapter 9 When Christian turned away from the river, Wallace was there, several feet away, watching him. Wallace had seen him with the boy. Christian’s first emotion was not anger or fear but shame, terrible fiery shame. Wallace had caught him at his most secret, most vulnerable moment, and Christian wanted to sink to the ground and cover himself, to shut his eyes tight, to vanish. He pulled his cloak around him and stared at Wallace, feeling his eyes grow colder, knowing he must not panic. The moonlight ravaged Wallace’s face. The hollows beneath his eyes grew deeper, the lines bracketing his mouth more harsh. The silver cross at his throat gleamed, and his hand went to it. “Vampire,” he said, spitting the word out, making it ugly. “Filthy, cursed thing–” “You knew,” said Christian. “The story you told me—it was all made up.
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