The Ill-Fated Fortunes of a Steampunk Madam IV: Stalk

Damn the thick hedge of roses that kept intruders from the house's ground floor windows, and thrice-damn the hag that planted them!

While the thorns were not themselves enough to keep the silent stalker from entering any of the open windows he chose, the tiny chiming bells that the scheming old bitch had strung through the deep heart of each bush would announce his presence long before he could make such ingress. And then, that horrid ghoul Caster would have him. No, entering was not his goal; he would have been happy just to lay in the soft grass outside the window and listen. He was close enough to hear the murmur of conversation, but kept too far to hear even a single word clearly.

Damn the roses, damn the hag, and damn that wretched old ghoul, too!