People think we hide in the shadows, but they’re wrong. This is the space between light and dark. The Enemy said dark is light to him, but this is neither and no one reigns here.
I peered through the gossamer layer of light into the room, where the body lay, to watch chaos unfold.
“Celia Downing was one gutsy lady,” my partner told our suspect. “The 9-1-1 operator asked who’d attacked her. Her last word was, ‘Kytt.’” Ed pointed at Kytt Windthorn’s childlike face.
Windthorn folded her arms. Her right eye was the same shade of blue as the interrogation room’s walls; her left, the same avocado green
“Ah, so this is what that girl meant by ‘Wandering Library.’” I study the dark appaloosa—from the tome-shaped bags hanging from his sides to the book-thieving mud devouring his feet.
Rescuing a horse is one thing, but reading materials?
I stay far away from the thick goop. The earth still squishes beneath my
“What in Hades are you doing here?”
Kytt Windthorn scrambled away from the person who had whispered over her left shoulder. She jerked her head, knocking her glasses askew. Kytt turned around and crouched next to a display case of a shadow-filled Palmer’s Jewelry Store. She crossed her arms, a diamond necklace swaying
After all the crap life’s dealt me, I’d developed a motto. When life gives you lemons… steal everything else.
In this city you can shoplift up to one thousand dollars and it’s just a misdemeanor.
You can also steal a heck of a lot more if you’re good at it, and by “good”
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