“Patients,” Hans said, appearing from nowhere and startling the hell out of Dr. Robert Henry Lang. “They’re growing restless and debating whether to eat the cat.” The whippet-thin Hans was light on his feet and prone to sneaking up on Rob, who tried to pretend it didn’t bother him.

Rob dipped his fingertips in a washbowl to clean the morning sleepers from his eyes. “Bathroom. Coffee. Glasses. Then patients.”

Hans used a rag to scrub Rob’s face like a parent might with . . .

CHAPTER 4

The mob of Shepherd’s Crook, 1680 edition, stormed the home of the demon, sorcerer, and suspected vampyr Yulric Bile. As mobs went, it was pretty good. No elder went untorched. No young man went unpitchforked. Women wept and gnashed their teeth. John Farthing brought his new gun. John Cross had smithed some chains. Benjamin Moss broke down the door to his 100th citadel of sin, with some assistance from his son, John. Cider was drunk, hymns were sung, and a fine time was . . .

CHAPTER 4

The mob of Shepherd’s Crook, 1680 edition, stormed the home of the demon, sorcerer, and suspected vampyr Yulric Bile. As mobs went, it was pretty good. No elder went untorched. No young man went unpitchforked. Women wept and gnashed their teeth. John Farthing brought his new gun. John Cross had smithed some chains. Benjamin Moss broke down the door to his 100th citadel of sin, with some assistance from his son, John. Cider was drunk, hymns were sung, and a fine time was . . .