Unbeautiful Corners
Excerpt:
You used to call my freckles summer’s art painted whimsically on my skin, before you’d kiss them and move on to my lips, and then move on to more…
You used to love me in the summer grass.
You loved me every place you could.
Every place I let you.
I Love You After Dark
Excerpt:
He presented me with a little smile, so grotesque smeared in blood. “First let me out.”
A bone-deep fear curled inside me—the same primordial fear that comes when you realize you’re being followed while you walk alone at night.
“David,” I said. “If you’re not, the key’s right there. Let yourself out.”
David’s smile was slow to spread, like a viscous puddle of blood. “Hello, Julia. Pleasure to meet you, at long last.”
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The Cracked Compass
Excerpt:
I loved our wedding day.
As I came to love him, despite the lies.
In the process of obtaining our marriage paperwork right before this voyage, I learned Ivan was born under a different name than I know him.
I’d learned that he is several years older than I thought.
I’d learned about his time in prison.
And still, reader, I married him: time was running out for me.
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An Inheritance
Excerpt:
He was brooding and beautiful and Em was speculating. Maybe he was a professional singer, out for the day in his night-time stage-show costume. His clothes looked like they’d come from someone’s grandma’s sewing machine, then seen better days, and his hair looked like it had been cut in someone’s kitchen. His gestures were more period movie than modern Sydney. Em could imagine marketers sending performers out to the street in order to intrigue the audience. She was intrigued by the grief which spread from his eyes to the space around him, held up by his music. The music pierced Em’s heart, though she couldn’t understand the words, and the singer’s grey eyes pierced her blue ones.
His scrutiny made her hot in the face because, whilst he was looking at her, she was looking at him…
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A Fool for You
Excerpt:
She arched an eyebrow. “You know, you don’t seem very sorry.”
“What can I say?” he shrugged. “I’m a good actor. Maybe I should be in pictures.”
Ugh, she thought. Infuriating man! Clearly, there was no reasoning with him. She pushed to her feet.
“Sleep well,” she said. “You’ll need it for tomorrow.”
As she turned to make her way into the depths of the hotel, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk up, whether a smirk or a smile, she wasn’t sure.
“As you wish,” he called after her.
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The Wind Chimes
Excerpt:
She woke to discomfort, roots and branches bumping under her spine. She was being dragged across rough ground by her feet. The smell of mud and rotting leaves filled her nose. She couldn’t blink. Her eyes were dry. But she could make out the shadows of trees arching overhead, branches laced across a glowing blue sky.
Gradually, she realized something was wrong with her body. There was a dull pain in her neck and a deep unresponsiveness in her limbs that should have been concerning. Somehow, though, the bumpy roots and the cold mud soaking through her clothing bothered her more. Her shirt was riding up. She was uncomfortable.
At least the sky was pretty.
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From the Ashes
Excerpt:
Sometime after midnight, the storm that had raged during my arrival blew over and the moon bathed the garden in silver beams of light. I awakened, drenched in sweat and with the taste of bile at the back of my throat, to find a shadow lingering right outside my window. I would have pressed the button to call the nurse, but then—
He sang.
I closed my eyes and listened…
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Stone and Hellfire
Excerpt:
Oh, shit. I was having another breakdown. None of this was happening, was it? I was probably deep into my episode, lying in the middle of the aisle of this cathedral, my friends frantically wondering what to do with me.
I needed my meds.
I scrambled for my bag that had fallen near the base of the pulpit earlier. My meds were in there. I needed—
“You don’t know,” the gargoyle said, gravel grinding along his jawline as he spoke. I kind of thought I should see dust or rock particles falling from his mouth.
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Samorost
Excerpt:
“Tss,” she tsked. “No, I am not giving you fangs when I make you. That’s just asking for bloody lips.”
“Yours or mine?”
Her heart went unsteady. “Are you implying that we’ll kiss?”
He knelt then before her, his head tipped somberly up. “Are you telling me we won’t?”
“Do you want—” at the last moment, she lost courage and finished “—fangs?”
He gently touched his intangible lips to her fidgety hands. “Don’t you trust me? Because,” he faux-gnashed his teeth, “I would never bite the woman who made me.”
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The Dance of Death
Excerpt:
The ragged, lanky lad of barely ten summers hung limply from the chains. Half of his shaggy blond hair was caked with blood and the other half was drizzled in dirt.
The beggar lifted the prisoner’s head by his jaw. The youth slowly opened his blue eyes, and a few flies escaped from their corners.
“Do you want to live?” the lady asked.
“Yes.” The boy’s reply was barely a whisper.
“Are you willing to die for it?” the beggar asked.
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Sonya Lano 