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THE DRINK OF A BROKEN EARTH
Nobody remembered when the sky first turned the color of burnt pennies. Some said it was the factories, some blamed the wars, some whispered that t...
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Dragonbone Alley
The rain hadn’t stopped since sundown. It ran in silver veins down the narrow backstreets of Mong Kok, where neon bled into puddles and cigarette s...
THE QUIET ROOM WANTS WHAT IT WANTS
The house arrived on a flatbed in sections, slid down the throat of the cul-de-sac like a coffin eased into its slot. When Ezra signed the papers, ...
Scales of Vengeance
Rain drums like static across paper lanterns, painting the night red and trembling. Inside the Dragon Palm Dojo, a hundred fists rise and fall in r...
Wolverine: Rust and Ruin
The night smelled like iron and wet ash. Logan stood in the alley behind a burned-out tenement, rain dripping off his jacket, pooling around his bo...
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Whiskey Suns and Asphalt Dreams
I was an unlicensed weather system when the sun crawled over Las Vegas like a jaundiced tick, and the air tasted like burned coins and motel chlor...