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A Song of Blackness

I had never before met this man, this gnarled old usurper who lounged on furniture emblazoned with my ancestors' crest.  I had never seen those flint-sharp eyes floating in a sea of overlapping wrinkles.  And yet within that crumpled flesh I read hatred and bitterness and treachery.  This man had murdered my grandfather, and his face bore the guilt of it.

Hold a Candle to The Devil

“Miss Em?” Florence called softly from the doorway.  The woman—perhaps it was a woman—in the bed was fragile and hollow as a teacup. Her white hair wisped and curled around her skull, and her eyes looked like stones dropped in deep snow. She opened her mouth and made a weak, kitten-ish sound. Florence nodded and bent to adjust the pillow.

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Cursed Motives

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Safy laughed despite herself. "Unnatural? Of course I am."
From the Archives:
Invitation of the Queen
Tahileh was mine, and had been working for Leuhovesen instead for far too long.