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She had seen this landscape for all that it now was in her dreams.
The ocean lapped up on a beach of glass—some solid, some shattered, all shining with the horror that formed it, as blinding as the setting sun. As clear as if it happened yesterday.
The memories that had been...
It wasn't spring, but Mal never ignored a random urge to clean, for she got them so seldomly.
She had been in a rundown, single story house for a few hours already. Though it was suitable for residence, it had been being used for storage since Malcoma moved herself and her girls into the hotel...