Deborah Harkness

My fingers hesitated above the keys.

And when in doubt, scholars usually postpone a decision.

My fingers wanted to stray back and touch the brown leather

If it was, it had strings attached that bound me to all the Bishop witches who had come before me.

But back on the right side of it again, I was more determined than ever to remain there.

eyed the short list of todos jotted down over the course of the day.

A low chuckle startled me

There had been one vampire, a cherubic monk who pored over medieval missals and prayer books like a lover

Their bone structures are so well honed that they seem chiseled by an expert sculptor. Then they move, or speak, and your mind can’t begin to absorb what you’re seeing. Every movement is graceful; every word is musical. And their eyes are arresting, which is precisely how they catch their prey. One long look, a few quiet words, a touch: once you’re caught in a vampire’s snare you don’t stand a chance.

It was his feral combination of strength, agility, and keen intelligence that was palpable across the room