Chapter Eighteen
Sylvie
Debrecen, Hungary
Since the time of the Black Plague,
we have walked in Death’s shadow.
We collected those felled by his touch
in order to protect the living.
Even now, influenza and other diseases
may endanger your village.
The weak shall perish.
The strong shall survive.
All you can do is watch, and wait,
for the storm to pass.
~ The Bloodwalker’s Book
Sylvie paced back and forth in her small jail cell. With every impatient turn, a few locks of hair slipped loose from her crocheted cap. Soon, half her hair dangled in her face. She wrenched the cap off with a jerk. Bobby pins flew in all directions.
Although past midnight, the lights burned in the corridor outside the jail cells. The cell walls blocked her view of the other inmates, but she heard the
