He is with me generally, and I have consistently longed for him. He is unendingly appealing, perpetually tolerant. The individuals who don’t have any acquaintance with him, dread him. In any case, not I. However he is Mystery itself, he is no secret to me, no unseen country. I have voyaged every night along his stygian waterways, along the moon-shaded streets that lead forward from the desert of the skull. I have run with the monster whose magnificence is the sun that makes the excellent shadows of our lives. I have taken his devils in my mouth and tipsy the juice of their rotting fertility. The homunculi who tunnel in his night soil have crept inside me. I have offered myself to the parasites that feed on the deposits of his awful dreams.” She looked with stupid power at the dark opening that Felipe had summoned, as though recently mindful of it. “Passing. Let’s assume it, cousin. Let’s assume it and listen to how it vibrates noticeably all around! The word has a blustery, serious sound, does it not? Like the lapse of incredible energy, or the main breath of a tempest.” She covered her face in her grasp as though overborne by her desire for death. However, then, at that point, moving more rapidly than Beheim had expected, surprising him, she came up and held onto his wrist, immobilizing the arm that drags the light. With her free hand, she thumped Giselle to the side and, ascending to her feet, flung Beheim against the entryway. The light dropped to the stones, dispersing sparkles, and moved away from behind her. “However in case of needs be,” she said happily, “I’m willing to suffer life some time longer.” She got her to hang on his coat, lifting him with the goal that his feet hung. “Sufficiently long, at any rate, to administer your last entry.” She brought it out behind her. “Felipe! I’m free!” Beheim butted her in the face, and she staggered in reverse, losing her grasp on him. Blood sprayed from her nose, recording thick as a sauce over her lips and jawline. Her tongue flicked out. She lapped at the splendid stream from her noses and grinned. Felipe started to fling himself against the investigation entryway; the wood bowed outward with each effect. Then, at that point, Lady Dolores screamed. She glanced with sickening dread at the smoke that had started to surge up about her, for in pulling back from Beheim’s blow, she had ventured close enough to the fallen light that a flash had gotten on the train of her robe. Presently the luxurious texture was bursting at the seams with fire. She let out a cry of anguish and rage and gave herself wholeheartedly to him, yet he dodged away. He got Giselle by the arm, and veering to one side of Felipe’s supernatural void, which held its structure in the focal point of the room, he hauled her back from the recess and the consuming lady who swayed after them, shouting, arms outstretched, quickly turning into a huge light that lit up the air till it seemed like a day. The investigation entryway fragmented and broke. Woman Dolores’ skin rankled and developed dull, her shouts destroyed into a crude grinding commotion scarcely discernible over the snapping of the fire that was devouring her. The crisping veil of her face was ghastly to see, and Beheim currently felt nothing of retaliation, no trace of win. She made a surge at them, shedding gouts of fire, however when they evaded her, she adjusted bearing and, making a shaky move to one side, balancing for a negligible portion of a second as though to arrange herself, accordingly leaving no doubt as far as Beheim can say that this was a cognizant demonstration, she overturned into the dark throat floating in midair similarly as Felipe burst through the entryway in a shower of splinters, a blast of snapped loads up, looking—with his exposed teeth and blushed eyes—like the seal of a bad dream. Alarmed at seeing Dolores, he got her wrist, and as she fell she thusly—may be thinking he was Beheim, or maybe in simple reflex — fastened him in a hug. Briefly, they wavered near the very edge of a human equilibrium, half, fifty-fifty out of that chill dark vacancy; the blazes slithered up Felipe’s arm, licking at his face. Then, at that point Beheim, perceiving that he was unable to risk their endurance, ran forward and pushed them in.