Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. Like carpenter, like chips. Lucy stared out to the busy streets beyond. ‘I have the means to compel you. “No.
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