Enter to win a signed copy of BCS author Helen Marshall's new short story collection Gifts for the One Who Comes After
“Why in the world do you want to be a magician, if that’s the life they lead?” he asked me after one particularly bloodcurdling story about an angry mother.
By the time they snap her fifth finger, she doesn't have the strength to struggle anymore.
He slices through the thong on the cover of the fish basket. Hundreds of sunken eyes stare accusingly up at him.
Safy laughed despite herself. "Unnatural? Of course I am."
It should be spring, the crows' dead eyes protest. It should be spring.
If Tolyat wanted to see the whole of Driftwood at once, he had to get close to the Crush.
Only then did I discover two alarming facts about my own person: I was naked beneath the scratchy blanket, and my wrists and ankles were bound in chains.
The angel Azrael surveyed the remains of the town. The place was as dead as the horse he sat on.
I had hoped to tell you the first story in the summers to come. It is my sorrowful task to tell you all three, instead.