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The Killorans’ front door changed color depending upon who knocked. Sky blue for a charming acquaintance, heart red for a lover present, past, or future. Clover green for a spiteful enemy, or a rich, jammy plum for an old friend. Mustard yellow for family and, due to a slight inaccuracy with the spellwork, traveling salesmen. The day the Bloodmoons paid a visit, the door turned as black as the bottom of a well.
What an intro
“Pain has never been all that satisfying to me.” His voice was quiet, sinister. “Fear is a more sophisticated beast, is it not? Pain stops when the spell stops, but fear…it burrows, it grows roots, it takes on a life of its own long after I have sown its seed. To wield fear is to wield the greatest power of all.”
Sometimes you can do everything right and it still won’t work out.
My will is iron.” Saff snorted. “Iron can be struck into shape if the forge is hot enough.” “Fine. My will is coal. Black and ugly and misshapen.” “But coal—” “Oh, shut the fuck up.” Nissa’s brandy-slackened lips twisted into a half smile, half grimace. “Metaphors aren’t my thing. Let’s just say I’m a stubborn wretch and be done with it.”
