His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. But in that reservation it may be she went a little beyond the converse of his view. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. She descended down the stairs of the house, sidestepping the refuse from bingedrinking teenagers that was strewn everywhere. I must tell somebody—and you would understand.
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