Blue Ruin will do the job nicely. In one grave, mind. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. At any cost! Her brothers had it practically—at least they had it far more than it seemed likely she would unless she exerted herself with quite exceptional vigor. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill.
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