Hill was seated. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me. Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. ‘And it is not only a question of her identity, but a matter of her life as well. We can’t even protect them from themselves. She's not for pleasure, but for work.
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