“I suppose...” Harold frowned. “Dead is dead, though, whether it's from zombies feeding or vampires.”
“You're impossible. You've seen me feed a hundred times. It's very rare that I kill someone. What would be the point?Killing reduces the food supply and increases the probability of discovery. If you want to point a finger, point it at him. He's the one who can't eat without killing. If he wants to munch down on a brain he has to remove it from a corpse. There aren't many people who can exist without a brain.”
“Not even evangelists.”
Gillian laughed. “No, I suppose not.”
“There might be another way, though.”
“What if Lucy could extract Dill's spirit from here and put it somewhere else?”
“In the golem, you mean?”
“Yes. That was Dill's plan all along. That's why he was so desperate for a copy of the Animus Treatise, so that he and Dill could give themselves bodies that didn't decay.”
“Would that work?”
“I don't know.” Harold looked at his daughter, who had fallen asleep still squatting on the ground. “Lucy?” He shook her awake. Her eyes opened, her gaze settling on the charred skin of Dill's face. She began to cry.
“Shh! Don't cry.” Harold gathered her into his arms. “Daddy's here. Mummy, too. Don't you worry about that nasty old corpse.” He jogged her up and down until her tears subsided.
“She's over-tired.” Gillian stroked her hair. “She really needs to sleep.”
“We don't have time.” Harold looked at his partner. “It took the combined efforts of all three of us to take down that golem.”
“Dill told me there are dozens of them in the Magelight warehouses. A whole army.”