Count yourself fortunate.” He made an elegant sweep of his hand toward the sun. “Daylight does not make them turn to ash, but they become bloody damn infants, whinging on about irritated eyes and sluggish limbs and so forth.
Count yourself fortunate.” He made an elegant sweep of his hand toward the sun. “Daylight does not make them turn to ash, but they become bloody damn infants, whinging on about irritated eyes and sluggish limbs and so forth.
