That Walking Blood Bag is a Queen

over her last faded gray T-shirt. The sound echoed off the slanted walls of the narrow attic

living room downstairs, and Eleanor, with theatrical sorrow, had "revealed" that Ainsley was not a Thomas-Yates by blood. Just a gir

p click of high heels against expensiv

s hands

as so rough today." Katharina's voice filtered through

ying concern. "Don't you worry. That roughhousing won't be necessary m

ome up to this dusty floor. The smell o

onsider it a small price to pay. That little rust belt orphan served her purpose perfectly. A m

God it's over. I won't have to look at her che

e grimy window, the密密麻麻 of old needle marks stood out against her pale skin like

smile twis

force. The sharp metallic sound cut throu

r. A beat of stillness, then Eleanor's breathing be

en movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing through her skull. Her vision grayed at the

died, her eyes were

old brass handle and

ed to life, its light flooding the da

he wall's wainscoting. Eleanor immediately stepped forward, positioning herself bet

. Her worn sneakers landed directl

corridor like a whip. "What do you have in that bag? If

met Eleanor's, the older woman's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence. Something

u should be grateful. Three years of free room and bo

dull thud echoed in the tense silence. She ya

battered notebooks that landed face-down, their pages fluttering to reve

diately dismissed them with a contemptuous flick o

ried absolute precision. "Six thousand milliliters. That's how much y

an ugly shade of red. "

nd notebooks back into the bag with efficient, disinter

"She always does this. Plays the victim. Makes us

ed with a defin

her shoulder and walked forward, directly

ed with Katharina's

st the wall with a undignified thud. Her hand flew to h

or spun to check o

the top of the sweeping staircase that led to the firs

window at the far end blew open, rattling i

igure, a chill running down her spine

sley walked through it without looking bac

was