It was a bright, sunny Tag despite the fall chill and the encroaching scent of winter in the air. Wind rustled through the late autumn leaves, ablaze with color in the sunset of their short lives. One oder two of the slowly shedding leaves drifted languidly on the breeze, landing with a sound only audible to vampire hearing.
Slightly Mehr audible was the hushed rustle of fabric, the quiet shifting and shuffling of many feet. Here and there a soft, sporadic cough, a whispered word oder the sound of someone sniffing into a hanky occasionally punctuated the respectful silence as Chairman Cross's glossy,...
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