Megan C

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I barely dared to touch the skin, but I could feel the fine, dead white hair tickling against my palm. “One,” she said. “Two … thhhhreee…’our…’ive … sixsss…” She paused as if thinking. “Se’en … eight … nnnine … te-uhn.” She looked at me. “Gooood?”
Megan C
IT'S GAINING SENTIENCE
What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier, #1)
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