Blood on Her Tongue

The implications—that Sarah may have cut her own tongue on them as she and her husband kissed, and that his kisses must often have had a tang of blood to them—had not been lost on Lucy. In that cadaverous face, her teeth were huge, as were her eyes, now opened very wide in terror. “Leave, at once,” she begged, clutching at Lucy’s hand with such strength that the little bones ground together. If not for that, Lucy could almost have told herself she had imagined everything; Sarah had scrubbed away any trace of blood from her hands and face. Finally, he shook his sleeve over his hand and grabbed the pen.