Bring Her Back

The church sat in the middle of Nothington, just away from the crossroads, over the arch of the Blue Bridge. Its white spire stood stark against the Belt of Venus, while the hills surrounding the valley held up the sky and pushed against the anti-twilight arch. When we drove into the town, it was silent without anyone in the roads or on the sidewalk, leaving the sun to rise alone in its leafskittered streets, where the bell of the White Tower only rang in echoes anymore.

We parked just on the edge of the crossroad and got out, carrying only what we needed. The circle was easy to build, but the candles were hard to light in the bitter wind that rattled everything but the ground. Once we’d managed it, we held hands, shaking fingers knitted, and bowed our heads. Eli started the chant and Jori picked it up quickly; the rest of us filled in, and soon the circle was tight with the energy of clasped hands and a shared intent.

We were going to bring Addie back, or we would die trying.

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Brad

“I’ll fucking kill you,” he raged, fists clenched, his face twisted in a grimace of fury.

“Now, Brad…” There wasn’t any reason left on that face — there wasn’t any thought left, anything that could hear rational thought, anything that could hear a well-constructed argument. That very look dropped his perceived IQ a solid 50 points, but there was no use even talking with him — not like this.

“Kill you,” Brad growled, gnashing his teeth.

“You need to calm down.” He let me lead him to the door, and I guided him past the motion sensor that made the doors open by themselves, so I wouldn’t have to leave his side to open it.

“Kill!”

“Come on, now. Be nice, or they won’t let us come back to the Food’n’Fun anymore, okay? We’ll get your pie somewhere else.”

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Demon Blues

Fever and light
she got those redblack eyes
she got that heat that’s not heat and I vaporize.
I come apart
come undone in a rush
I feel on fire; I know I’m too hot to touch

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It Wasn’t Me

So easily the center of his chest had opened, a blossom, a poppy, spreading in a flash of redblack. He dropped to the concrete, his knees buckling, eyes rolling to the back of his head. When he struck the ground, his hands slapped so hard, she winced, even though he no doubt couldn’t feel it at all. When his head smacked the ground, the skin split at his brow, another wound, and the hot life of him poured out sluggishly, no longer forced by any beat.

She heard an odd whistling, felt it on the back of her tongue, like something inside her tuning to a tinny and far-off radio. It never resolved into a scream, and so she closed her mouth, and lowered the gun. When the barrel touched her thigh, it burned; she dropped it, flinching, uttering low, rough, animalistic sounds from her throat.

“It wasn’t me,” she said to the body. “It wasn’t me,” she breathed, shaking, panting, lost, feeling the tears on her cheeks and hardly knowing if she were crying more for him, or for her.

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Stitch-n-Bitch

“This is disastrous,” Adele said, looking over the fabric. “Absolutely disastrous.”

“It’s the tiniest stain. Put a pearl there.” Beatrice looked unperturbed by the existence of the little mark, a spot of blood that happened upon the cloth when she’d been pricked with a pin through the layers of silk.

“Have you recently been struck about the head?” asked Adele.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Beatrice sniffed, rolling her eyes. She winked at Adele and they both laughed for a moment, fussing with seams, each of them making tiny, careful stitches, applying hundreds of pearls and gems with patient fingers.

“How is your head, by the by?” Adele’s fingers moved quickly; she was amazing with embellishment work — her embroidered whorls and pearl-studded skirts graced the fat frames of so many of the upper class, it was almost a mark against someone who didn’t have at least one of her pieces.

“Aching,” Beatrice sighed. “But I imagine that will go away with time.”

“Well, dearest, next time when they come to question you, be a little nicer, and they’ll be a little less prone to wanton destruction,” Adele chastised gently, sighing.

“Yes, dear.”

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