I Scry With My Little Eye

A grey dock weathered the thunder of the heaving, swirling sea. White spray spattered across its salt-stained cobbles and the wind swept flecks of foam over the rusting railing and against the stout, stone houses lining the seafront. Gulls screamed from the nooks and crannies of the rooftops and walls,

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A Strange Gift

The bronze hands crawled around the small clock, gleaming in the soft white light of the floating lantern. His shadow wavered on the stone bench beside it. A quiet knock echoed through the room. ‘Come in.’ Vert slipped in and pushed the door shut. ‘Violette.’ ‘Vert…’ A soft thrill stirred.

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Tilting at Windmills

Bright glass and bronze lanterns floated over the chairs and the broad brazier’s flickering white flames. Faint shadows dappled the bare limestone walls, pooling dark beneath the alcoves and arches. ‘Violette,’ Vert rasped. ‘Bonjour.’ ‘Bonjour, Vert.’ Harry dropped into a seat. ‘What is it?’ ‘Grise is away… meeting with… those

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Le Cancrelat

The long grass and dark green leaves of the orange trees trembled in the breeze. A scatter of white-jacketed Chevaliers surveyed the small crowd, leaning on the gnarled trunks, wands in hands. Harry stood in their midst, bumping shoulders with Vert. Julien smiled, sitting atop a stack of logs, his

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Inception

A soft, white glow flickered in the corner of Harry’s eye as he stacked small, bronze bowls into a tower upon the book-heaped bench. He ran a finger down the column. Twenty seven.  The pale light faded. ‘What are you doing?’ Gabby called, stretching onto her tiptoes to peer over

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Oranges and Lemons

A warm breeze tugged at his robes, whispering through the long grass and dark green leaves of the orange trees. The worn stone walls of the ruined estate loomed beyond the weathered fountain and the gnarled trunk rising from its pool of dead leaves and dust. If they’re here, they’re

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