Signal Moon

by Kate Quinn

And if she often felt like weeping from the stress and the fear and the endless grinding dread of it all, what did that matter? There was a war on; you pinned a smile in place and kept going.

“Keep Mum, She’s Not So Dumb!” Did you really need a war, Lily wondered, to remind men that women weren’t stupid? Of course you bally well did.

Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves; The signal moon is zero in their voids.

“Vampires are not real, even in 2023. So far, anyway. Though if you’d put it on my bingo card for 2020, I might have bought it.”

Matt’s entire spine did its best to crawl out of his skin, over his shirt collar, and under the bed.

I am unbreakable. Even when you break me, I remain unbroken. What am I? “Wind,”

“‘Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves; the signal moon is zero in their voids.’ Dylan Thomas. I got it tattooed on my forearms when I became an ST. The poem doesn’t really have anything to do with the kind of work we do, but to me those lines do.” “Chasing the signals through the void,” she answered. “Chasing away doubt and nerves.”

“I’ve got three hours before I need to catch my train. Talk to me, Lady Rose. Just talk to me.”

Not even borrowed time—slipped time. Someone had slipped a little of his time into her pocket, and she didn’t know how much more they had left.

“Gran was just the coolest, I mean, a viscount’s daughter who did codebreaking and had a Dylan Thomas tattoo on her forearm?”