It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. Nothing would stop her, and she was prepared to face the consequences. As he looked up at the massive tower, the clock tolled forth the hour of midnight. His brute strength surged through her veins, she could feel his energy in her heart, his life force stolen like candy from a baby. No— no, it must never be. All the party were greatly interested by Sheppard's history— especially Figg, who laughed loud and long at the escape from the Condemned Hold.
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