Her door crashed open loud enough to send her falling off the bed and crawling under it. Not reaching for the shotgun, crawling under the bed. If something was landing with that kind of force at her door she wanted a good look at what it was before she decided what to do. Maybe she could go out the window ( Read more... )

She knew what he was going to say the moment he appeared. She just knew. No psychic flash or future vision, no phantom sensation. She knew. She read it in his face ( Read more... )

It was a tradition. Every year since she'd first met the old bastard, Hank, and she had no intention of stopping it just because she'd been dead for a few days. She dragged Remiel along with her, of course ( Read more... )

( Five poignant days )