Tag Archives: Cameron Mackenzie

Twenty-three – 03

Cameron’s mouth dried out and he stared at her for a few long moments, lips thinning. “Has it gotten worse?” he finally asked in a whisper. “Has the Hunt being here—” “I don’t think it’s the Hunt,” Carolyn said. “And … Continue reading

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Twenty-three – 02

They lapsed into companionable silence, each staring out into the ravine, at the half-melted snow and the bare-banched trees littering the slopes. “I like it out here,” Carolyn said after a few moments. “It’s quiet. Makes it easier to think.” … Continue reading

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 23, Story | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Twenty-three – 01

There was too much worrying going on and too much of it was directed at him. I guess now I know how Phelan’s felt for the past few months. He closed his eyes. He ached, but not enough to want … Continue reading

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Twenty-two – 07

Thom just held me for a few long moments, resting his cheek against my hair. “Has she seen Neve yet?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. I didn’t move, just stayed pressed against his chest. A raindrop spattered against the … Continue reading

Posted in Book 5, Chapter 22, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Eighteen – 04

There was blood in the snow near the border of their settlement. Thom spotted it as they come up from the bridge. His stomach flipped right over and he slid from his saddle, heart in his throat. I knew it … Continue reading

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Eighteen – 03

They rode in silence up the old roadway that led to the back side of campus, past the barrow where they’d buried the dead, then up the hill toward the battered, snow-shrouded Shakespeare Garden. Seamus reined up his mount just … Continue reading

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Eighteen – 02

The shadow of home was a smudge on the horizon as they rode through fallow, snow-dotted fields, fields full of dead wheat and corn, lost to the early chill and the death of the modern world. If they weren’t so … Continue reading

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Eighteen – 01

It hurt, a gnawing, twisting pain in his back. Next to him, Cameron swayed in his saddle, looking pale, either from shock or blood loss. They’re going to kill us, Thom thought bleakly, gripping his saddle pommel with a white-knuckled … Continue reading

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