Despite having been at the Mansion almost a year and a half, Spade's never really found himself at ease here. Maybe the less so since Livia left him, but truth be told, that wasn't the biggest problem. He was a man who knew his place, back at home, who had a great command of his city and his job, even if the rap was lousy nine times of ten, and ( Read more... )

Oberon is bored and a bored fae is never a good thing. He's tired of everyone else pulling pranks while he sits and does nothing. So he devises his own ( Read more... )

It's been a little over a week, and to Spade's knowledge, the young Victorian Alan Campbell (so identified, the typist is presuming, ala Richard Carstone - by his calling cards) has not yet returned to the land of the living. His concrete clues having led to nothing, Spade's asking around more or less at random - people who knew Campbell, people ( Read more... )

In the name of science, I have been asked to conduct a survey of the divine members of the community. Please fill out one of the following forms. Anonymous entries are allowed. Be as brief or as expansive as you wish. Gods only, thank you.

( Survey )

Jackrabbit was painting a pot. Why? Because the idea struck him and when he has ideas he must act on them ( Read more... )

Was nearing Christmas and Jim had hoped maybe Doyler would be back, if only for a little while ( Read more... )

Tom walked. His memory was strange and details seemed to come and go. But it was certain that Richard was dead and he was...he had been...best not to think about it. But the mansion seemed to be swallowing him alive. All those people. All those eyes. All looking at him. So he left. He went to the woods and he had been walking for a good ( Read more... )

She never meant to get caught outside when it got dark, and she never meant to leave Tom, not until he was moving the right way again, but she went out to her secret place where the gold is, the shiny that makes Sweeney so happy with her--and while she was out the light went ( Read more... )

Helen is sitting in the kitchen She has changed her clothing to something a little more rich, but is, for all purposes, still a boy. The table is littered with tools, jars of dye, and piles of hollowed eggs. She picks one and begins to draw designs onto the shell. Every so often she stops, lets it soak in one of the dyes, removes it, makes more ( Read more... )

Not really, but he wouldn't mind finding some ( Read more... )