The first thing you notice about Dexter isn’t the careful smile or the perpetually placid eyes. It’s his stillness. In a world of fidgets, of people tapping fingers and adjusting collars, he is a statue of calm. I noticed it at the forensics conference in Tampa, where he presented on ...
Read MoreThe rain on the windshield was a greasy smear, blurring the neon of the all-night chemist into a sorrowful galaxy. It was a fitting end to a disastrous day. The journalist was two hours north of London, in a faceless motorway-service hotel, because a prestigious magazine had sent her to profile a...
Read MoreElara Vance lived in a world of silent, beautiful things. As the senior conservator at the Atherton Museum of Decorative Arts, her days were a meditation on texture, composition, and the slow, respectful repair of time’s damage. Her hands, always cool and dry, were trained to handle the fra...
Read MoreThe storm over Derry didn’t rage; it purred. A low, wet growl of thunder that seemed to sync with the rhythm of the town’s hidden fears. It was in this electric hush that Elara found herself walking home, the kiss of rain on her skin a cold contrast to the memory of her date’s c...
Read MoreThe rain in Forks was a constant, a drumming rhythm against the roof of Bella’s small house. It was a sound that had once felt claustrophobic, but now, it was merely the backdrop to the symphony of her new existence. Since becoming a vampire, the world had sharpened into hyper-reality. Ever...
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