Maria Almadovar-Gonzalvez finished drying the wine glass and hung it upside down in the wood wine rack over the large center island. It was a beautiful kitchen; white and black marble tiled floor, genuine maple cabinets along two walls topped with a dark granite countertop. Elegant chrome fixtures gleamed under the subdued lighting over the sink, and the stainless steel refrigerator and freezer reflected the same light in dull, hazy patterns.

Maria pressed her lips into a thin line as she regarded the spotless kitchen. The Señor, he would be pleased. Too bad she was giving her notice tonight. Her employer was an unusual man, but not unkind, always asking after her family. He didn’t seem to have any of his own, and Maria, a child of fruitful parents, thought he might be lonely. She straightened her back and raised her chin. He would have to find another maid with...   read more »

There was a point during his convalescence in his brother’s questionable care, shortly after he’d come to realize in some sort of vague sense where he was and what was going on, when he woke to the feeling of careful hands on his left foot. He’d spent so long consumed by fever dreams and night terrors it was a moment before he was certain that he wasn’t sleeping. Eyelids barely open, he gazed down towards his feet. Diogenes was crouched there, slowly running his fingers along Pendergast’s insole, lips moving silently.

When they were younger, before Diogenes’ illness—for Pendergast still called it such in his mind, even though he now knew it had been something else entirely—he had allowed this frequently. Diogenes had been a student of anatomy even then, and had found his brother’s pale, nearly translucent skin a fascinating source of study. Pendergast, for his part, had been something...   read more »

He is running.

It is fall in Virginia. The sun is just rising, throwing a warm glow over the dusky grey of early morning, highlighting the red and gold of the dying leaves on the trees and the spindly forms of the branches that have already been laid bare. Among the thicker clusters of trees that lead into the denser forests, a thin layer of dry leaves rests gently atop those that have been compacted and partially decomposed by rain, and forms an ankle-deep carpet through which the green of the summer grass occasionally peeks. Rain from the previous night has created the occasional hazardous mud puddle, and moisture soaks the hard-packed dirt trail, making finding traction and balance a conscious exercise.

He runs past a tree that has been defiled by a myriad of simply stenciled signs; he has seen them so many times that their bold, simple messages no longer...   read more »

The woman screamed again and again, short, shrill screams, as if someone was poking her with a stick. She was a stocky, middle aged woman in hunting camouflage, her face free of make up but her fluffy blonde hair incongruously well-coiffed. Breaking away from the medics who’d been evaluating her, she now stood there right in the middle of the crime scene, her boots planted in a puddle of blood, letting out staccato shrieks and jabbing her finger at the corpse, pulling her hand almost back to her ear and thrusting it forward with each scream. The EMTs hovered outside the perimeter wearing helpless expressions, clearly not wanting to trample potential evidence by fetching her...   read more »

-October 15, 2006-


Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows, blocking the hazy autumn sky of the New York skyline. The forest green lounge seat covered in files and paperwork was empty. A soft indention in the only section free of paper disclosed of a recent occupant. The missing occupant stood in front of the fireplace, with his hands spread delicately across ornate mantle moldings.

Pale milky blonde hair perfectly combed back from his face, only slightly showed the signs of a restless man in need of sleep. Pale blue marred the delicate skin around his eyes. The jacket normally closed at the waist was unbuttoned, hanging around his trim frame like limp wings. His expression betrayed no emotion but pain revealed itself in the depth of his gazing eyes.

Aloysius quietly let out a sigh as he looked into the depth of flickering orange flames. The past few days had felt like...   read more »

The make-shift cell had all the illusions of luxury. It was a spacious room, and if Pendergast had not been shackled at his wrists and ankles, it would have seemed a lovely place.

He was chained to a handsome mahogany bed, wearing a black silk dressing robe. His body was clean, but he had no recollection of how it had gotten that way.

The last thing he remembered was finally losing consciousness after a long struggle in Fosco’s make-shift grave. Someone had saved him, only to imprison him again. It was all very perplexing.

Pendergast tested the strength of his shackles. All of his lock-picking instruments had been unsurprisingly removed from his person, and even his thin wrists were tightly bound by this pair.

On further inspection of his surroundings, the only thing he noticed about the room was how conspicuously bare it was. There were two doors, one presumably leading to a...   read more »

Their position had been overrun during the early morning hours. First Lieutenant Eli Glinn manned the bridge as American troops fell back, fighting and straggling their way over the sturdy wooden frame.

He had waited for nearly twenty minutes, a virtual lifetime as their tiny force had held, broken, held again. He’d been anticipating this moment for two days. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him as five men broke from the heavy cover and ran for the bridge as though Lucifer Himself was on their heels. The tall one bringing up the rear, Garza, signaled to him and Glinn took a breath to steady his nerves.

This was it, then. Just a matter of seconds, now... He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “Get clear! Get clear!” he yelled as Garza shepherded the last soldier over the bridge. All accounted for. Glinn didn’t know all...   read more »

I swung my gun hand, making sure to hit Diogenes hard enough to knock him out and it connected with his forehead. It was only fair, considering what he’d done to Charles. Proctor caught him before he could fall onto me and dosed him with god-only-knew what to keep him unconscious until I decided otherwise. I helped Proctor maneuver him to the wall, where I’d installed shackles the day before.

Dear brother was heavier than I’d expected him to be and Proctor had to help me while I shackled his wrists above his head. I gave him enough slack to take most of the weight off his shoulders but not enough for...   read more »