“—the light was black. It was not real light, not good light, not the light Lizzie knew, that you could read by or warm to, but a light that was made of darkness, a cancerous light, thick and smothering,” — Ray Garton Copy Share Image
“—the light was black. It was not real light, not good light, not the light Lizzie knew, that you could read by or warm… — Ray Garton Copy Share Image
“a thin coating of fur on her face and she was smiling around small, unfinished fangs. She was flanked” — Ray Garton Copy Share Image
“Jordan Cross sat in the back of a taxicab headed for the wharf wearing tortoiseshell glasses, a blond mustache and a straw fedora over… — Ray Garton Copy Share Image
