This is the grimoire of the witch, Geillis. It is a witch’s name, and I take it for my own; what I was born does not matter, only what I will make of myself, only what I will become. And
This certainly isn’t the first time you’ve slept—I do mean slept with—a woman, is it? I asked. He had been married, though I seemed to recall that he had spent much of his married life living separate...
There were moments, of course. Those small spaces of time, too soon gone, when everything seems to stand still, and existence is balanced on a perfect point, like the moment of change between the dark...
There was plenty of the infusion left. I poured another cup and held it out to Lord John. Surprised, he sat upright and took it from me. And now that you’ve come, and seen him—do you still have feelin...
There was nothing but mist to his left and behind him, but to his right, he made out two or three large, bulky shapes, standing upright. Making his way slowly across the lumpy ground, he found that th...
There was my acquaintance from the Porpoise; Lord John’s blond hair was hidden under a formal wig tonight, but I recognized the fine, clear features and slight, muscular body at once. He stood a littl...
There was a rustle near his ear, and he turned his head to see the crow. It stood on the grass a foot away, a blotch of wind-ruffled black feathers, regarding him with a bead-bright eye. Deciding that...
Then he fell, badly, tumbling over rocks into a small hollow, bruising himself and knocking out all his wind. The fog had billowed over him, marching past, urgent in its hurry to engulf things, as he...
Thee is my wolf, she’d said to him. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home. And sleep at thy feet, he’d replied.
The world and each day in it is a gift, mo chridhe—no matter what tomorrow may be.
The wind stirred the drying leaves of wild grapevines with a papery rustle behind me, and in the distance a murder of crows passed, squabbling in shrill cries.
The tooth had belonged to a gentleman named Murphy from Ellis Ward, the one we lived in. I say had belonged because I had the badly broken and infected bicuspid out of Mr. Murphy’s head before he coul...
The thing was, some men needed killing. The Church didn’t admit that, save it was war. The Mohawk understood it fine. So did Uncle Jamie.
The sort that make me want to take ye straight into the forest, far enough that no one will hear when I lay ye on the ground, lift your skirts, and split ye like a ripe peach, he said softly. Aye?
The sharp scents made my throat ache. I had been up such hillsides before, and smelled these same spring scents. But then the pine and grass scent had been diluted with the smell of petrol fumes from...
The room was dark with rainlight, though, and the roof thrummed overhead. The sound of it seemed inside his blood, like the beat of the bodhrana inside the night, like the beat of his heart in the for...
The phrase Blessed are those who have not seen but have believed floated through his head. It was maybe not the believing that was the blessing; it was the not having to look. Seeing, sometimes, was b...
The only thing you can do—the only thing—is to try for the one who’s in front of you. Act as though this one patient is the only person in the world—because to do otherwise is to lose that one, too. O...
The obvious—to allow Jamie to see the boy. And the other obvious—to allow you to see Jamie.
The men’s attention had shifted to a young man crouched on a stool in the corner. He had barely looked up through my appearance and interrogation, but kept his head bent, hand clutching the opposite s...