Squashbuckler

It is dark in the chapel, save for a razor of moonlight falling through stained glass. The baronet grins. His lips peel back, exposing long teeth. He is young. Has always been young. Will always be young. And the reason for his unending youth lies on the bier before him. A farmer, just a few years past middle age, as beautiful and robust as the fields, stirs from unconsciousness. His blood wil…