She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ‘Now then, where did you spring from?’ ‘Do not concern yourself from where I come,’ Melusine snapped. His hand flew across the paper. She opened her suitcase—new and smelling strongly of leather—and took out of it a book, dogeared and precariously held together, bound in faded blue cloth and bearing the inscription: The Universal Handbook.
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