Hannah considered the notes in front of her, licking a finger and shuffling between them. On top was a shopping list for Gronk’s dinners this week, with a notation in arcane runes running up the side. She considered it with a heavy sigh. They wanted a show. She’d give them a show.
Rain hammered against the iron roofs, pooling, crowding the sewer grates. It dripped from the glowing signs, beading drops of yellow, blue and red. A t.v beneath four inches of scarred glass lit the alley in a kaleidoscope of garish color.
He walked, alone. The city opened to him.
The stink of charred rosemary was acrid; it burnt my lungs.
Alain whipped the barrel of the musket around. His hands were sweaty against the wooden stock now. His arms were beginning to get tired; he felt like he had been holding it for hours. “Let him go!”