Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men.
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