He stepped over the magic boundary and froze, his gaze fixed on Conlan. A moment passed. Luther sputtered and pointed. “Yes, it’s a human infant,” I told him. “Give!” “I’ll let you hold him if you swear by Merlin’s beard.” Because it would be funny. “By Merlin’s beard, whatever, give.” I handed Conlan to him. Luther took him, carefully, as if my son were made of glass. Conlan stared at him with his big gray eyes. “Hello there,” Luther said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aren’t you a wonder?” The wonder farted. I laughed. “When did he awake?” Luther asked. “Around six this morning.”
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