I don’t peddle stories to the small press much anymore; lately I’ve been selling them to Amazon.com, where you can buy them for the low, low price of 49 cents apiece. It’s not as much as I used to get upfront from magazines, but at least they’ll be available forever, or as long as Amazon.com is around … which will probably be forever.
“Curse the man,” King Lahr growled at her bowed head. “Curse him and flay him and feed him to the hogs. What’s that stretch of river to him, anyway? It’s mine! At least, it would be if old Unglor hadn’t lost it two generations ago, the fool.”
“Yes, my lord,” Cardella said softly.
“Bring me some wine,” he muttered, staring out across the vast dark empty room.
The first sign that little Eva was going to lose it was a quiver in her chin. Lucy noticed said quiver during the homily, when the church was hushed except for the voice of the priest. The acoustics in the old building weren’t the greatest and the loudspeakers seemed to be on the fritz, so if Eva started screaming, she would be by far the loudest thing in the place.
It was one of those early summer mornings when the air was cool and clear as glass beneath a cloudless sky; when birdsongs rising from the roadside bushes seemed to drown out the traffic and the radio and any other distraction that cared to compete with them. The road descended into a broad, flat-bottomed valley. Irene drove slowly along the country road, well below the speed limit, left arm dangling out the window. She was oblivious to the vehicle behind her that had crossed the double-yellow to make an illegal pass.
Until something cold closed around her wrist.