( You can make a plan / Carve it into stone )
The new moon'll be in the sky tomorrow unless he greatly misses his guess, and about things like this Harry Wells never really does. Calendars are nice, but after you've lived with a moon-bound condition three years running, you don't need them any more. They're for making other people feel safer.
( ( Read more... )

Rabastan Lestrange had noted that his pre-lunar symptoms of lycanthropy tended to vanish almost as soon as his fur did, but Harry Wells hasn't generally been quite so lucky. The worst of the snappishness, claustrophobia and so on passes for him once the moon is down on the third day, but it fades away at about the same rate as it built up unless he ( Read more... )

Harry's not normally the sort to dream much. Or rather, he dreams as much as anyone, but he's not usually prone to remembering them. He knows how much sleep he needs, and he gets it, and that's that. Having something as big as an anticipated weekend with the wife jarred to a halt by Annie whipping out the threat of Lysistrata's not much fun for the ( Read more... )

When he woke in the morning, out by the firepit, he was all over aches and stiffness. Not from hunting, most likely, nor from aught to do with looking out for the Bar patrons in the face of what might come out of the woods. More likely it was from holding back earlier. You didn't hold the change at bay six hours and more without paying a price ( Read more... )

Gordon Rouse was never what you'd call the most employable man in the world.

No, scratch that. Rephrase it. Gordon Rouse was never what you'd call the most persistently employable man in the world. There was always work for someone with Gordon's proclivities, but it wasn't the sort that lasted very long or needed him to come back more than once ( Read more... )

Wells, being busy with other things, couldn't take Arithon to his daughter's house for the warding thereof. He could, however, set the fellow on the right course without disrupting his day's activities too much. It's not far to Philippa's house, after all, and the route is fairly straightforward.

The prospect of walking about London was just a bit daunting. On a day as hot as this, the smells- all the smells- were potentially overwhelming. Wells told himself he wasn't going to be out among them long; as soon as his objective was achieved, he could turn around and go home. And ah, there- even after two years' absence, the shop he remembered ( Read more... )

The streets of London are busy, like always, but at this time of day there's something of a lull. A body could get through the streets on a bicycle easily without too great a risk of death, save from the inevitable mad taxi driver. And they're all mad in this part of town, not far from where Annie and Harry Wells officially live (even if they're ( Read more... )