On edge, the boy took two steps forward, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
Gerald lay on his stomach in a bank, hands crossed over his head.
Trudging through the field behind his house, eight-year-old Harry Cole was as mad as he had ever been.
“You’re only saying it because you have money, Harvey.”
There are dangers for those who forget the dark. But Farhaveners took comfort, because Farhaven harbored not one, but two workers of magic
Bevan heard the tattoo artist say, “All done.” But she knew she wasn’t.