CHAPTER NINETEEND'IU LAY. f**k him and his martyr complex. Kissera sulked in the corner of Frankie's working on her third glass of goat blood. It was too thick and tasteless, but got the job done. The regulars stayed away. They knew better. Even Frankie left the bottle in front of her in a bucket of coals to keep it warm then spent all of his time at the other end of the bar. So what? How different was this from any other time? Pre-Angela, this was her usual situation. Maybe this was exactly what her life was supposed to be. Happiness, no more than a slight reprieve from unwanted solitude. Godsdammit, I'm pathetic.
Her body surged with restless energy. Whatever Charouth had given her made her antsy instead of invigorated. Every noise. Every word. Every grunt annoyed her. Worst of all, bei
