• The Glitch in the Mirror
    The convenience store on Fulton Street was open twenty-four hours, which meant that for eight of those hours, Danny was alone. The other sixteen were split between the night shift regulars—the insomniacs, the truckers, the people who couldn't sleep because something in their lives had broken and sleep felt like surrender—and the customers who didn't want anyone else to see them buying what they...
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  • The Entropy of Healing
    The city of Omonoia was a miracle of glass and white light, a sealed dome where death had been effectively abolished. In Omonoia, the 'Cure' was a ubiquitous nanite cloud that lived in the bloodstream of every citizen, repairing cellular damage in real-time. Dr. Aris was the High Architect of the Cure, the man who maintained the equilibrium of the city's immortality. Aris lived in a state of...
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  • The Dream-Weaver's Needle
    Edinburgh in the 18th century was a city of grey stone and eternal rain, a place where the Enlightenment's reason clashed with the lingering shadows of the occult. Alistair lived in a narrow townhouse on the Royal Mile, his rooms filled with anatomical sketches and jars of iridescent fluids. He was a practitioner of 'Oneiric Medicine'—the art of treating the mind by entering the patient's...
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  • The Shadow Over the Bayou
    I've been watching it for fifty years. Fifty years, since I was a girl of thirty-two, standing on my grandmother's porch in St. Genevieve Parish, looking up at the sky and seeing something that wasn't there before. Something dark. Not a cloud — clouds move. This was still. Like someone had painted a circle of nothing onto the blue and left it to dry. People called me crazy. Of course they did....
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  • The House That Consumed Itself
    The first room to go was my father's study. Not destroyed. Not demolished. Erased. One morning I walked down the east wing corridor intending to visit it, as I did every Saturday, and found that the wall where the door had been was now a seamless expanse of brick. No trace of the doorframe. No scuff marks. No dust line to show where the door had swung. As if the room had never existed. I stood...
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  • THE WEIGHT OF NOTHING
    ### Act I: The Spark Ethan Cross stood in the supermarket aisle for twelve minutes before making a decision. The decision was about cereal. There were fourteen brands on the shelf, from store-brand corn flakes at three dollars a box to artisanal granola at nine dollars, and Ethan was trying to choose one. Not because he was hungry—hunger was not the issue. The issue was that each choice carried...
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  • What the Ground Eats
    The thing sat in Dale Rostow's north pasture like a black dinner plate pressed into the dirt. It had been there three years, since the Tuesday in November when a green flash lit up the cornfield and the thing appeared, quiet as a dropped book. Dale stood at the edge of it with Sheriff Bud Hinkle and watched it eat the fence post. "It's on the move," Dale said. "Could be the worms," Bud said....
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  • The Last Waltz of Gatsby
    I Harrison Wells had a limp that he acquired in France and a habit of noticing things that other men missed. Both served him well as a private assistant, though neither would have earned him a place at any table worth sitting at. He worked for Julian Cross, a man who had appeared in New York society in the spring of 1924 with more money than anyone could account for and less interest in...
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  • The Better Investment
    I Liam Costello died on a Tuesday. He fell from the Brooklyn Bridge at 2:47 PM, his phone still in his pocket, still displaying the margin call that had destroyed him. Three hundred million dollars in debt. Three hundred million dollars he had borrowed to bet against his own fund. He had been the youngest partner in the history of Meridian Capital. At thirty-five, he owned a penthouse in...
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  • The Parasite's Mercy
    The town of Blackwater sat in the humid embrace of the Louisiana bayou, a place where the line between the land and the water was as blurred as the line between the living and the dead. Silas lived in the ruins of the Thorne Estate, a crumbling mansion of grey stone and weeping willow, where the air always tasted of salt and rot. To the people of Blackwater, Silas was a miracle. He was a man of...
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