Molluscoid

Chapter 3 Each time I went to the cellar over that day and the next, I found the Archmage sleeping, or humming quietly with his eyes closed. Errands took me in and out of the cellar most hours, and gave me excellent excuses to keep an eye on him. "Bring me a book, at least," Arachider demanded sourly at some point in the morning. I didn't reply, but decided it wouldn't do any harm and returned later with A Study In Scarlet, which I deposited across the room from the Archmage. "Well, I can't reach that." "Boo hoo," I said, and strode up the stairs again. I organised my drinks cabinet, ate lunch, checked my arsenal, but it was only when I

Chapter 2 It was a big house by all counts. There were tall windows and expansive candelabras, but the darkness was still vast – not made less so by the enormous bolted doors that lined each room. Broad marble staircases wound throughout the entrance hall, which was, more often than not, I had discovered, deserted. I looked across at Mr. Hale's daughter. She was a very well-trained dinner guest. When addressed she would always raise her head with a smile but as soon as the attention filtered away her eyes became unfocused and she lost any feigned interest in the conversation. At this instant she caught me watching her and smirked, her

PART 1: WORLD INSTITUTION OF TRANSHUMAN CULTIVATION TO HAGIOCRACY Chapter 1 It was time to take a break and eat something. The dead could wait. A city lay in recline following the events of the previous night. There was a heavy humidity hanging just below the cloudline that echoed the density of fear and stillness settling in. Cathedrals and towers and skyscrapers and a gherkin were swamped in greenish-grey-blue smog and the dawn. Buildings bloated the stomach of the city and winding intestinal roads sent the congested traffic slowly and less than surely toward the bowels of the city of London. Underground, fouler worms who had ingested m

Prologue "We need to go," said the Archmage. "They're coming." They could all hear the screams; they had been hearing them for at least an hour. When darkness had fallen, the massacre had begun. "How long?" whispered one of the foremost, a young man with wild brown curls. The Archmage shook his head. "A matter of minutes," he answered gravely. "You all have to get out. Stay low, and in darkness. Silent running. All who are injured: fly if necessary, but only if absolutely necessary. I can't guarantee how many of you will survive, but if you listen to me, the fatalities will be fewer. Now, go, quickly, there isn't much time." The exiles w

Chapter 5 And within minutes we were out of the door. She did, of course, have to spend a long and fruitless time explaining to her mum where she was going without giving any details - because quiet frankly, I was the best informed and even I had very little idea where we were going. We were very soon trekking in thick coats and gloves through the medium dark. It was early November by now, and the cold was a gnawing ache. We didn't talk much. Chattering teeth made it difficult. A pair of drunks in their mid-thirties paused to whistle and yell traditional drunk sexism peppered with a touch of slurred speech. Charming, really. We skirted ar

Chapter 1 "A calm journey, you said," roared Tarrid. "Light winds, maybe. A bit of rain." Dael smiled. "Would you have been so eager to accompany me had I told you what really awaited us?" The ship lurched and a wave crashed down over them both. Tarrid was swept off his feet and Dael, who clutched the rigging, caught his wrist and helped him upright. "Perhaps not," admitted Tarrid, "but at least I would have been prepared." "You're right, I'm sorry." "You're lying!" "Well observed." Tarrid scowled. "We should go below decks," he suggested. "We're just getting in the way and getting wet here. And besides, you're enough of a target with

Chapter 4 I was almost ready next time I saw Anthony. Almost. The doorbell rang halfway through Futurama and I sighed, switching it to mute and standing up. It was Tuesday evening, and so my turn to cook, and I was relishing the time before I had to start, enjoying as much TV as I felt was necessary to keep me happy in my teenage-ness. I opened the door with a prepared half-smile, but it vanished when I saw who was there. He had a half-smile too, but his was guilty. "Hi," he ventured. "Should I give up on you?" I asked. His forehead creased and he looked genuinely hurt. "What?" "Should I. Give up. On you?" I repeated slowly. I walked

Chapter 3 Monday morning came very soon. The beginning of November meant that the soft new bed-socks I had acquired made my feet uncomfortably toasty and at four o'clock I threw them off. But by the time my multiple alarms roused me in a mess of repetitive beeping, at seven, my toes were frozen and the rest of me was reluctant to step out of bed. Holiday over. Groaning, I decided that tearing a plaster off quickly was better than easing it off bit by bit, and so I threw back the covers and stepped with a single bounding leap across the room, to the door, and from there it was a quick sprint to dodge into the toilet before my brother. He sho

Chapter 2 Sleeping away my Saturday meant that the English essay I was supposed to spend an hour on almost got forty-five minutes of my attention but was not of sufficient interest for me to put any real effort toward it. Neither was my head in a particular way to afford it any level of real concentration. Eight cups of tea later and I was ready to think through Friday's party. I'd turned up at eleven-thirty and had the first bottle of cider thrust into my hands upon entering. Emma was looking beautifully curvy in a black and emerald bodice with thick eyeliner and lipstick marks on her forehead and cheeks, and fangs stuck on with chewing g

Chapter 1 "I dreamed it would rain," I said. The eyes that glared condescendingly through a haze of alcohol belonged to Nathan, whose head had somehow ended up on my knees. "Yeah..." he said. I groaned and smacked his forehead with the heel of my hand so he rolled off, chortling. I grinned with an agreeably sideways leer, showing that I too had been taking advantage of Emma's motorway-standard cider that tasted so disgusting it was almost not worth the extra confidence, light-headed-ness-ness, and distinct lack of diction. These were not signs I usually exhibited but my fourteen hour day had made my  head a great deal more susceptible th