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28/07/2006
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The Bloodroot CovenantACT I The Thorne family mansion sat on a bluff overlooking the Yazoo River like a woman who had once been beautiful and was now waiting to be forgotten. The paint was peeling from the white columns, the roses had gone wild and tangled into the shape of something almost beautiful, and the river itself moved slow and black and full of secrets, just like the family that had lived there for three...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 BewertungenBitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
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The Station KeepingACT I The alarm said the oxygen levels were nominal. David didn't believe it. He floated in the observation cupola of the Hermes Space Station, three hundred miles above the Pacific Ocean, and watched the Earth turn. It was a blue marble, impossibly bright against the black, swirling with white clouds that looked like brushstrokes on a canvas. It was beautiful. It was indifferent. It was,...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Pattern in the StaticThe anomaly appeared in the cosmic microwave background data on a Thursday morning, and Dr. Elena Kowalski stared at it for exactly four seconds before she knew, with a certainty that felt like falling, that it was not noise. She was thirty-six, a signal analyst at the NSA's underground facility in Utah, and she had spent eight years studying the cosmic microwave background—the faint afterglow...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Observer at OmahaI first met General Marcus Hale on a Tuesday in March, 1946, at the Omaha military installation where I was assigned as his new aide-de-camp. I was twenty-four, fresh out of the Army Intelligence division, and I carried myself with the particular brand of nervous competence that comes from knowing you've been chosen for a job that's one size too big. Marcus Hale stood six feet two in his boots...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Last OperatorHarlan Graves sat on the base of the radio telescope every night and listened to the wind. He was fifty-two years old and had not worked since the coal mine closed. He had been a miner for twenty-eight years, which meant he had spent more of his life underground than above it. When the mine closed, he emerged into a world that had no use for men who knew how to dig holes in the earth. The town...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Last Honor of AlistairThe castle of Blackwood stood on a cliff overlooking the grey Atlantic, its stones worn smooth by centuries of salt and wind. It was a place of echoing halls and faded tapestries, a monument to a nobility that had long since lost its purpose. Count Alistair, the last of the line, spent his days in the library, reading the journals of ancestors who had once led armies and shaped kingdoms....0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Last General(Act I: The Iron Dawn) The Empire of Oros was a dying beast, its borders fraying and its heart rotten with decadence. Adrian was the only man who still remembered how to fight. A captain of the Guard, he had spent a decade on the frozen frontiers, where the wind howled like a wounded animal and the only law was survival. He didn't care for the court's intrigues; he cared for the men under his...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Observer at Five PointsI. The basement smelled like damp concrete and the cheap coffee Mrs. O'Brien made, which was not coffee at all but something brown and hot that she called coffee because it was easier than explaining. I was thirty years old, and I had been living in this basement for eight months. The apartment above the basement was where Mrs. O'Brien lived—with her cat, her radio, and her opinion that I was a...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE BEAUTY OF DEATHThe rain had been falling on London for eleven days when the order arrived. Captain Shane Holt sat in the train compartment watching fog swallow the suburbs, his fingers resting on the ring in his pocket. Elena's ring. Five years since she disappeared near Whitechapel. Five years since he had held her hand in a hospital in Dover and watched her breathe stop with the quiet dignity of a woman who...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Woman in the CornerMaggie O'Sullivan had been working in New York houses for twenty-five years. She had cleaned up after senators and stockbrokers and socialites and immigrants who made more money in a week than Maggie earned in a year. She had seen every kind of madness money could buy, and she had learned the most important rule of her profession: never ask questions, never get involved, and never, ever believe...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 3 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Lost Generation's RequiemThe autumn of 1924 in Paris was a kaleidoscope of jazz, absinthe, and a profound, echoing emptiness. The city was a sanctuary for the "Lost Generation"—men and women who had survived the trenches of the Great War only to find that the world they had returned to was a stranger. Julian was one of them. A former lieutenant in the British Expeditionary Force, he now spent his days writing...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Appraiser's EyeThe file came across my desk on a Tuesday. Standard life insurance claim, three deaths in thirty days, all listed as cardiac arrest. The kind of cluster that makes an adjuster suspicious but not alarmed. We see them every week. I opened the folder. Three names: Frank DeLuca, Rosa Martinez, James O'Brien. All three worked at the Brooklyn docks. All three lived in walk-up apartments in Red Hook....0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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