The teeth were sepulchered in a black lacquered box on her night table. She listened to their whispers as she went to sleep.

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While doing something out of spite still resulted in something getting done, Amery didn’t want to share the credit with anyone else.

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Even though no one else was here, he was never truly alone. A shadow, darker than dark, fell over the pages he was reading.

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On nights when she couldn’t sleep, Mira would walk the empty street that led from her apartment building to the cemetery.

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Reef pixies didn’t usually need midwifing, but there was a first time for everything.

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She still couldn’t smell the scent of gingerbread without breaking into a cold sweat, bile rising in her throat.

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There’s an old myth that I like to tell when their grief-heavy steps bring them inevitably to my door.

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They had been waiting for the storm to pass for eighty-six years.

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Melody shoved her hands into her pockets and peered around the bodies in front of her. There was no better place to witness the unspoken hierarchy of the city than in the waiting line for the rockets.

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That she had done all that with the dull point of a poorly forged knife was the stuff that they wrote myths about. But that didn’t make it any less true.

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