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continued from hereHe's mildly embarrassed to have trouble getting up. It's surprising what daily activities one's abdominal muscles are involved with. But he manages it and trudges after Harvestman to the bedroom, kicking off his shoes before slumping down on the bed. As a means of maybe changing the subject, he pulls up his shirt to stare down at ( Read more... )

The apartment is more or less back to normal, apart from the rather large hellhound seated patiently on the floor exactly where it had been while eating Leander. It doesn't pant like normal dogs, but sits still and close-mouthed like sleek black statue, eyes smoldering, unblinking. It tends to watch Harvestman when he's around, but otherwise, it ( Read more... )

One of the best things about the Nexus Clinics is how emphatically they lack that hospital smell. Everything is scrupulously sterile and well ventilated, the air monitored and kept clean of scent. Leander is in no shape to appreciate it, however; groggy and drugged up, his midsection is covered by machinery that is ostensibly keeping him alive as ( Read more... )

A moth flutters against the industrial fluorescent lights overhead. Leander tracks it until his vision blurs, eyes unfocusing as the hellhound dips its head and eats another part of his—fuck, who knows, liver, stomach, whatever, he feels its teeth in the cavity of his abdomen, ripping and slurping and chewing ( Read more... )

"Is that blood?"

"Uh, yeah, I had a guy over earlier doing a ritual to get rid of the ghosts and was too tired to clean up. Come in, I'll tell you about it and you can disparage his technique."

"When did he come over?"

"Yesterday."

"He won't be back?"

"Nah. Can I get you anything?"

"No. No, I'm fine. Come and let me see your hand."

Her hand is cool on his face ( Read more... )