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“Evil is not merely a falling short, a failure to observe some code or other. It is an active force in the world, a darkness at least as powerful as that of light.”
How typical of the idle rich, he thought. To take the life of a defenseless beast for fun. I despise these people. I would not accept this man’s patronage if he offered it.
“Portends the death of a person of note,” Kilmain replied. “The peasants love stories in which the banshee heralds the demise of a cruel landlord. But that is in Ireland, of course. No reason for it to manifest itself here in England.”
“I didn’t, no—I just felt a presence. But the day after my scare, a little girl who lived on the other side of the forest disappeared. She was a little younger than I was. She’d gone out gathering blackberries with friends.
“It wasn’t her. That’s what my mother said.”
“It wasn’t Lucy?” asked Brie, frowning. Then understanding dawned. “You mean they found—that creature?”
“The Lucy Gould autopsy?” he asked, sitting down again. “There was something wrong, something strange about it?” “Everything was wrong—it was so disconcerting!”
“We don’t feed on your feelings, we suffer from them. That’s why we have to end you. All of you.”