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Chapter 11: Garden of Rehearsals
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Chapter 13: The Slides of Forever
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... ut somewhere in the world's skin—somewhere in earth, memory, blood. An old, dry clock, bone and remorse hands, crawling along with the slow, dragging creak of something waking.
Margo limped along beside Gabriel in mist as thick as shame, the coppery taste of moss and blood on her lips. Her skirt had been ripped by the vine's bite. Her arm ached. Her chest, bound with ghost bruises, pounded with each step.
The garden—the location once beautiful and magical—grew stranger. More colo ...
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