So I've been working on founding a civilization.

“Are you going out to the store?” Amy called from the bedroom. Her voice echoed strangely through the darkness that always enveloped the stairs.

“Yep,” Kendall answered. “Need anything?”

“So why do you think this house has been in the market so long?” Amy asked. “It seems perfect.”

Kendall shrugged. “There's all sorts of little things that can creep up. You know how it is. Something in the pipes or the wiring that shows up on inspection.”

When Robert came down the stairs, Jessica and Suzanne were comfortably nestled together on the couch, sipping at coffee and watching the snow fall through the window. He went to grab his own cup.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

The first wisps of sunlight were starting to peak from behind the blinds. Amazingly enough, nobody was snoring.

There was nothing quite like waking up in a puppy pile on a weekend morning.

Nialla slammed the door behind her. Carefully, this time. She didn't want to waste more good coin on a repair job.

This was the third tavern of the night she'd had to leave after decking someone. Sailors in port were so different. Grabby, making passes, couldn't tell that she wanted to be left alone. Probably the alcoholic swill they all gorged on. She had never understood the desire to dull your senses to that degree.

“Land to port!” Jekob cried from the crow's nest. “City lights, I'll bet my week's pay!” The crew cheered. All except Nialla. She maintained her stony silence and continuing tying off the sails. They would be switching to oars soon, this close to shore.

Plink. Plunk. Plink. Twang. Holly starts every concert off the same way, now. It invites knowing laughter from the regulars and confused looks of concern from the newbies. She goes on like that for a few minutes, sounding just like Jenny remembers her from their early college days. Without the broken string this time, though.

Plink. Plunk. Plink. Twang. Just like it had been going for the last hour. When Jenny had been told her new room-mate would be practicing guitar in the room, she had imagined something with some experience. Or at least someone not tone deaf. Seriously, it sounded like that thing hadn't been tuned ever.

“Barton!” I called, banging on the door to the make-shift barracks. It was just a basement in Michael's rented townhouse, but Barton had insisted on giving it the title. There was no response to my polite greeting, so I just slammed open the door.

“Uh. Did you notice your shadow is broken?” I asked. I hesitated at the office door, unsure what mood I'd find Michael in.

“No, Ceri,” Michael replied, spinning in his desk chair to face me. “I somehow failed to notice that a vital part of my spirit was lying fragmented on the floor. How terribly unobservant of me.”

And now, there she was, up on stage. Holding hands with Basal McConnell, one of his generation's best-known actors, and until recently considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Hollywood.

Look at her. She seemed stable. Happy. Things I could never give her.

“I'm so sorry,” Deborah said. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap.

“Of course you are, Debby” I replied. I looked away so she didn't seem me rolling my eyes. “You're always sorry. It doesn't keep it from happening time and again.”

You will be the last to go out.

You are the five-hundredth light.

The blood tree was dying.

“The blood tree is dying, papa,” Henrietta said from the doorway. Her handmade teddy bear – Georgette – dangled from one hand.

“It does that every year, love,” Marcum replied. “It'll be back.”

Stroud slammed the report down on his desk. His clerk, startled, fled from the room.

Five red daggers in as many days. Each one left in a fresh corpse.