With his snaggle tooth reflecting the full moon’s burr, he whispers a plume of breath into the chill, pulls the neck strap to his crimson velvet cloak and starts along the track. Buckles on uncomfortable shoes clunk with each step. Halting under a bowed elm, he bends down to release his tightbound leather and gilt
Sirena always wore boots, even in the heat of summer. Not winter boots of course. Winters in this desolate place required ugly, heavy footwear and she had to be stylish. What was a Siren without allure? Today, she pulled on a pair of thigh-high snakeskin boots with a stiletto heel and chuckled a little. She
Some folk said Uriah Bleakness would do the devil proud, should the devil ever stoop so low. Bleakness—Lord Bleakness, he’d grown fond of calling himself—owned a gloomy curio shop at the junction of Pinchin Road and Back Church Lane in the bustling parish of Whitechapel. The merchandise he sold was of a most Unextraordinary Character,
