The latch had not fully caught. Martin was the only person to directly address Lucy again, trying to reassure her that “real vampires melt in direct sunlight. She bounced onto her bottom. Voilà tout. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella.
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