Hard will leave you Breathless…

Hard 2x3My other fabulous publisher, Breathless Press, is having a summer sale. How cool is that?

That means that you can get Hart, the first book in my Hard Saga, for $0.50 cents! How’s that for a kick in the teeth?

Hard is very special to me. It was my first number one best selling novel. It was also the first m/m romance for Breathless Press.

I was so honoured when they asked me and every time I look at the cover, I’m honoured. Breathless Press has published some of the most amazing m/m romances (not to mention everything else you’re looking for) and it was a thrill to lead off their Adonis Line.

You can get your copy here, for less than a cup of coffee:

http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=1&products_id=261&zenid=rb4gsps274u05fi6teviafltu4

Summer not hot enough? Why not heat things up?

Books We Love…and books I love, too!

The Ravens CurseAmazing news! Great way to start off a post, right?

My fabulous publisher, Books We Love, has transfered all their books to Amazon! So that means if you’ve got a Kindle, you can now read the following of my books:

Hope Falls: Season One

Hope Falls Season Two: Eagle Valley

Hope Falls Season Three: Dragons Cove

The Raven’s Curse

Witchcraft and Anchovies

Electric PinkHope Falls

Electric Blue

Each of these books is only $2.99! Why, you can get more than one if you feel like it!

And you can even get a copy of the Jamieson Wolf Special Edition, wich contains Hope Falls: Season One, The Raven’s Curse and Witchcraft and Anchovies for $4.99! How awesome is that, you get one book for free!

You can check them out here:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Jamieson+Wolf+Books+We+Love+&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3AJamieson+Wolf+Books+We+Love+

The great thing is that these are books I love. Electric Pink and Electric Blue and the Hope Falls Trilogy are some of the earliest books I ever wrote. I’m so thrilled that they have a home with Books We Love and that I now get to share them with all of you.

Check this out to read a bunch of fabulous reviews for The Raven’s Curse and download some free eBooks too!

Banner

A Random List of Thankfulness

I have been slowly getting better. Or at least as close as I can be. For a while there, I was in a pretty sad state but I’ve been crawling out of the pit I’ve dug and am back in the land of the living.

As I’ve been getting over my frump, I’ve accomplished some amazing things. Well, they’re amazing to me. To you, they might seem ordinary, even mundane. To me, they are things I haven’t been able to do for months because I wasn’t able to.

Here’s a partial list:

  • Cleaning the bathroom: I was able to do the essentials but that was it. My bathroom floors have gone unwashed since January. Trust me, you don’t want to know what it looked like. But I did it and cleaned the rest of the wash room to boot, so that kicks. It hurt afterwards, but it was worth it.
  • Taking the garbage out myself: For months, one of my neighbours has been taking out my trash. I finally managed to get all the way up the stairs, around the back, and to the dumpster. I had a rough moment when I thought I wouldn’t be able to life the garbage can high enough, but I did it. Woot!
  • Being able to vacuum: Again, a simple chore, but I haven’t been able to do it. It’s tough to vacuum in my place, but I’ve managed it a few times now.
  • Changing the sheets on the bed: I haven’t even attempted this for months. I was changing them every week, but have you tried changing a queen size? Not fun.
  • Being able to iron my clothes: For a while, I couldn’t stand long enough to do so.

There are more, but they are along the same vein. They may seem like ordinary thing, but I’m so grateful that I can do them at all.

What it showed me was that you never know what you’ll be thankful for. I mean, these are simple chores right, every day thing? However, each chore is another small step towards feeling more like myself again.

I’m grateful I can do them again, but who ever thought I would be thankful for being able to do chores?

Still, you have to be thankful for the small things. They make way for the big things, right?

The Mystery of The Cuckoos Calling…

cuckooAfter Harry Potter came The Casual Vacancy. It was a powerful follow up to what has now become a classic (so quickly!) series in literature that has touched millions of lives. The Casual Vacancy was just as engrossing, just as compelling and set a different tone for J. K. Rowling.

The Casual Vacancy was a big book about a small town. It had the tone of Stephen King’s Under the Dome mixed with Coronation Street with It was a real departure for her and I came away from it thinking of Dickens with a modern twist. It showed that J. K. Rowling had more than one kind of magic up her sleeve. Along with bazillions of others, I waited to see what would be next.

The Casual Vacancy came out in 2012 but Harry Potter came out in 2007-that’s a five year wait. So I was happy to wait and see what would come after for a few years more, hankering for news of her next writing project; but there was a problem…

You see, it’s a bit of a mystery. Imagine my surprise when news started popping up that J. K. Rowling had written a book under the false name of Robert Galbraith. I didn’t believe it at first, not really. Being a Harry Potter fanboy, I was used to news of constant fake novels. To anyone who hasn’t fallen in love with the books or the movies probably won’t get it.

I remember going to a midnight release for the fifth book Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. It the whole evening struck me as magical. I had just gotten off a midnight shift and headed straight to the bookstore. It was filled with tons of people, most dressed in costume, all waiting for that moment when we could start reading.

It struck me that night that there was something magical about millions of people around the world, all reading the same book at the same time (thousands of millions if you take into account the different time changes). That’s not just a book-it’s an experience, that is magic. It also ends up being the worlds biggest book club that topped Oprah’s. Now that’s awesome.

You can be pretty much assured that I’ll read every book that J. K. Rowling has written or will write; but is that because she wrote the Harry Potter books? No, as much as I love them. It has to do with the fact that she’s one hell of a storyteller. She tells amazing stories, pure and simple.

The news of The Cuckoos Calling continued to pour in, finally confirmed later in the day by the CBC, the New York Times and the Huffington Post. To say I was stunned was an understatement. Everyone knows by now, that J. K Rowling wrote the book under a pseudonym.

I couldn’t wait to read it. I got the eBook as soon as I got home and am patiently waiting for the hardcover. A friend of mine asked me if I would have read it if I didn’t know it was by J. K. Rowling. The answer is probably not, but not for the reasons you might think.

I love mystery novels. I grew up on them: Agatha Christie, Ruth Rendell Jonathan and Faye Kellerman, Mo Hayder, P. D. James, Robert B. Parker, Raymond Chandler, Sue Grafton. I read all of their books and tons more authors than I can remember. Though I haven’t read a mystery novels, their what I cut my reading teeth on; well that and Stephen King.

I will occasionally pick up a mystery novel from time to time if its advertised well. The Flavia De Luce mysteries by Alan Bradley and The Hangman;s Daughter by Oliver  Potch are my current fave mystery books, that and anything by Minette Walters.

The thing is though, big releases like theirs are seen and, in J. K. Rowling case, she didn’t want to be. She just wanted to write and see what would happen. I think that’s pretty darn cool, actually. She could have gone her normal route but lets face it, if The Cuckoos Calling came out as J. K. Rowling’s next release, it would have sold billions. People love her books that much.

I really admire Rowling for creating a bit of mystery around The Cuckoos Calling. I think it’s a shame that her pseudonym was revealed in such a way. I don’t know how I’d feel if something I had worked under to give me freedom turned around and brought me more scrutiny. But hey, if it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be able to read the new J. K. Rowling book.

However, the question should really be: Is The Cuckoos Calling any good?

Oh my god yes! I haven’t had this much fun reading a mystery novel in years.  Cormoran Strike is a private detective with no home, no cases and creditors on his heels.

He’s also fresh out of his recent relationship, for the umpteenth time. Charlotte and him are splits for sure this time. Seeing as it was her apartment, he’s currently sleeping in his office on a camp bed.

Enter Robin,  the temporary. She’s recently engaged to Mat and isn’t sure what this new assignment will be. When she finds out that Cormoran Strike is a private eye, heart skips a bear. It’s always been her secret ambition to be a private eye. It’s always seemed so thrilling, so mysterious.

A mystery is just what ends up waling through the door: John Bristow is Lula Landry’s sister. Three months ago, the famous model commited suicide. Bristow wants Corbraith to prove she didn’t kill herself. Are Strike and Robin up for the job?

I’m half way through The Cuckoos Calling and thus far it’s been filled with models, sleezy lawyers and liars, oh my! Add in the uppity socialites, security guards and wanna-be actors and limo drivers, a bag lady and more. No one is telling the truth (or are they?) and eveyone has something to hide.

The Cuckoos Calling is incredible and I’m only half way done. I can’t wait to see what happens next. So why am I writing about it before I’m done the book? Personally, I think anyone that enjoygs a good mystery has to read this book, pure and simple. Anyone that enjoys a well told novel, really.

It doesn’t matter who wrote it, whether under the name of Rowling or Robert Galbraith. Its a story well told. All the hoopla about her false name being revealed is old news. Just read the book and form your own opinions.

I still feel badly for J. K. Rowling and don’t believe that this was all done as some sort of publicity stunt, as some people are claiming, but I am really happy that I get to read the book.

The Cuckoos Calling is a brilliant detective novel told in the classic vein in a modern setting. and I for one feel very luck to be able to read it.

 

Cerebral – A Short Story

brain_drawing_

ce·re·bral [suh-ree-bruhl, ser-uh-]

adjective

1. Anatomy, Zoology; of or pertaining to the cerebrum or the brain.

2. Betraying or characterized by the use of the intellect rather than intuition or instinct: His is a cerebral music that leaves many people cold.

3. Phonetics. retroflex

 

Athetoid Cerebral Palsy

Less common than Spastic Cerebral Palsy and more common than Ataxic Cerebral Palsy, Athetoid Cerebral Palsy is caused by damage to the cerebellum or basal ganglia. These areas of the brain are the ones that process the signals that enable co-ordinated movements and body posture.

A child born with Athetoid Cerebral Palsy usually develops involuntary movements, especially in the face, arms and parts of their body. It interferer’s with speaking, feeding, reaching, grasping, etc. It can also lead to trouble speaking and swallowing, drooling and slowed speech.

i

 

He knew the evening would be interesting when he saw the body in the garden.

Cedric tried to tell his mother about it, but as usual, she wasn’t listening. “There’s a man in the garden.” This is what he said. What came out was: “I want to play with fire truck.” Fuck, he thought. Lets try that again: “I’ll make it go around the room.”

Mother fucker, he thought. He was often perplexed by the relationship between his tongue and his brain. It often didn’t let him do what he needed or wanted to do. When he wanted to change from his chair to the couch, he couldn’t move his body very well. When he wanted to speak, to shape a phrase, something else materialized. It was all very disturbing.

He pointed at the window hoping that his mother would get the hint. At least that part of him worked fine: right arm and left leg. He could point and gesture at things – he hadn’t been denied that movement. He had learned quickly and wondered, not for the first time, why he had to resort to pointing at things – everyone knew that pointing was terribly rude.

Sometimes, however, pointing didn’t work. This was one of those times. Cedric’s mother Helena stopped scrubbing the dishes for a moment to stir a pot and gave him a glance. It wasn’t a mean glance, more a motherly look just to check that he was there.

“There’s my button,” she said – and promptly resumed stirring dinner. “Who’s Mommy’s cute boy?”

Cedric sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

ii

 

Elena, Cedric’s older sister came into the kitchen. She had a quick smile for him before grabbing some cereal from the cupboard. His mother looked at her sternly.

“You’ll spoil you’re supper if you eat now.”

“It’s just cereal,” Elena says. She holds up the box. “Look, it says whole grain, right there on the box. Aren’t you always telling me that whole grain is good for me?”

His mother scowls. “Honestly, why we ever taught you to talk at all, I’ll never know.” She goes back to stirring at the stove, humming something to herself. She hummed tunelessly. She was lost to him.

Cedric motioned to the window. He made one of the noises he knew he could make, a soft, urgent sound. He used it for feeding, changing and fright. He tried to tell them things, attempted the right words; but they would always come out wrong.

“There’s a man in the garden and it looks like he’s been there for a while.” What came out was: “I drew some drawings at school today.” His other arm pointed at the fridge. “I put them on the fridge.”

Cock sucker, Cedric thought.

She sat down beside him at the kitchen table and poured out a small handful of cereal onto the tray of his chair. He didn’t mind his chair; it gave him the mobility he lacked. He just wished that it would line up with the table and he didn’t have to use a tray at meal times.

Elena ruffled his hair with affection and gave Cedric one of her smiles. They never failed to warm his day. “Hey squirt,” she said. “You had a good day at school today?”

Cedric nodded and made a grunting sound that signified ascent. He wanted to say “Yes, I had a great day”, but the word ‘yes’ was denied to him. He loved his sister with all his heart and he couldn’t shape the sounds of her name.

“There’s a body in the garden,” he said to her. That’s what he said. What came out was: “I painted pictures today.” Shit balls, he thought. He pointed to the window with an urgent sound pitched low in his throat. Cedric hoped that Elena would take the hint when his mother would not. He was not disappointed.

“What’s the matter, Ced?”

He pointed to the window again and made another urgent sound. Something in its tone must have alerted his mother because even she turned around to look at him. “Elena, what is it?”

Elena went to the kitchen window and looked outside. Cedric’s heart beat quickly in his chest, hoping that she would understand, that she would see. “Mom?” Elena’s voice was unsure. “Mom, there’s a body in the garden.”

Finally, Cedric thought.

iii

            His mother came to stand next to his right and Elena was on his left. All three of them looked outside at the shape that lay amongst the dirt.          Cedric’s mother let out a sharp gasp. “Why, I think that’s your father. He was supposed to be home an hour ago…” She let the sentence trail off and Cedric heard the shrill whine of fear in her voice.

“Is he alright?” Elena asked. Her words were like sharp whispers.

“I think he’s dead,” Cedric said. “He’s been there since this morning. I couldn’t tell it was Dad, he was facing away from me.” He said this. What came out was: “Daddy.” Fuck it, Cedric thought.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Helena said.

“No, Mom, I think there’s blood,” Elena said. “Is that blood?”

Cedric looked closer and did indeed see a red smear that dotted the dirt of their backyard garden. He guessed that the gray mush beside his father’s head was what was left of his brain. The top of his father’s head had been cut clean off – he had been fine only and hour and a half ago; that was the last time he had seen his father alive. It was the blood that disturbed him. He had never liked the sight of it and had seen too much of it in his lifetime.

He would think of that later.

He knew that he should be dismayed, but he was more terrified, truth be told. Terror froze his emotions. Blood had congealed on his father’s head and formed a line into the ground.  Cedric tried to still his heart and reached for Elena’s hand. His mother gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. “Elena, watch Cedric.” She looked at her daughter with wide eyes. “And stay in the house.”

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Helena said. “I don’t know, but I need to see if he’s okay.”

“I think it’s quite clear that he’s not,” Cedric said. What came out was a low guttural sound of fear. The words were there, but he could not shape them.

“Stay inside with Cedric,” she said. “Just make sure that he’s okay.”

“Mom, don’t be ridiculous. Whoever did that could still be out there.”

His mother turned to look at his sister with a steely eyed glare. Cedric knew that look well, the one that said she was not negotiating. “That is your father,” she said. “I need to make sure he’s alright.”

Saying nothing further, she let herself out the kitchen door, closing it behind her. Cedric watched as his mother squared her shoulders and walked with careful steps towards her husband’s body. When his mother reached his father, she knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. He knew there wouldn’t be one. Cedric heard his mother let out a loud sob, the sound echoing through the kitchen windows.

The smell of something burning filled the air and Elena and Cedric both looked at the stove. Dinner was smouldering away in the pot, an acrid smoke billowing out of it. Elena went to pull if off the burner. As she moved away, Cedric watched as a dark shape materialized behind his mother. When he saw the gleam of metal, he made another sound of distress. “There’s someone outside!” He screeched. “Mother’s in danger!” What came out was another guttural nose that, for once, matched the terror that coursed through him. Elena ran back to him, they both saw the shadow move closer to their mother.

“What the fuck is that?” Elena said. “Who the fuck is that?”

She moved to open the kitchen door and yell a warning to their mother, but Cedric knew it was too late. The man, for Cedric saw that it was a man, raised his blade above his head and swung it down in one long arc.

Even through the window, there was the wet squelch of blood as the axe blade sliced through his mother’s skull. Cedric saw her eyes, blue and wide with fear, before she toppled over her husband, blood pouring into the ground to merge with his. Elena took Cedric’s hand in hers and was squeezing it; the pressure became stronger as the man reached down and ripped out some of her mother’s brains from her open skull and shoved them in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Elena said. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t think god can help us now,” Cedric said. What came out instead was a loud wail. The man with the axe heard the sound and looked up, his eyes locking with Cedric’s. The man’s eyes were dead and dark – there was nothing left there but madness. When he started towards the kitchen door, Cedric wailed louder.

Fuck, Cedric thought.

iv

            Cedric watched as Elena moved to the door and engaged the deadbolt. She also put the chain across and then backed away. Their assailant was already there, slamming his body against the kitchen door. It was made of heavy wood, but Cedric knew that it would not hold for long.

With a grace that surprised him, Elena went to the kitchen counter and pulled out a sharp knife. It gleamed like their attacker’s axe. Then she returned to him. “Put your arms around my neck, Ced,” she said. “I need to hide you. I can’t move you in your chair fast enough; you need to hold onto me.”

Cedric nodded and hooked his right arm around Elena’s neck and his left leg around her waist. Though he was fourteen, he was small for his age, his growth under developed because of his Athetoid Cerebral Palsy. There was the sound of breaking wood behind them. “Its okay, Ced, I’ve got you,” Elena said.

He held onto his sister tightly as she moved through the kitchen to the living room. She checked to make sure the windows were locked and moved to the front door. As she turned the deadbolt, there was the sound of breaking glass from the kitchen.

“Shit,” Elena said. “Shit, fuck, shit.”

Cedric could hear the terror in her voice and wished it wasn’t there. He could feel her heartbeat thudding in her chest and its rapid tattoo matched his breathing. Elena moved towards the basement door. “We have to hide, Cedric. Do you think you could play a game of hide and seek and not make any noise?”

He nodded even though Elena didn’t wait for a response. She went to the door and opened it. The stairs loomed downward in the darkness. His sister flicked on the light and Cedric was momentarily blinded by its brightness. Elena stepped down the first step and pulled the basement door closed behind them, locking it. Cedric knew that this was an almost useless measure. If the man wanted to kill them, he would. No door would stop him. However, the click of the lock engaging was comforting nonetheless.

Holding on tighter to his sister, they began to move downward.

 

v

            As they reached the bottom of the basement stairs, there was a loud sound from above them. The man was now inside the house. Cedric was sure those were his footfalls they were hearing now. He moved quickly and Cedric heard him go upstairs first, assuming incorrectly that a family would choose to hide in their rooms. The thud of his footfalls was ominous. He clutched his sister more tightly.

“It’s okay Ced,” Elena whispered.

No, it was certainly not okay, Cedric thought. What the fuck do you think is going on here? Were not on some fucking holiday. What came out was: “Scared.” He was surprised to find a word that summarized what he was feeling in so few syllables. For once his mind and mouth had worked together.

“I know, Ced, I’m scared, too.” Even whispering, there was a note of bright fear in her voice. “But you have to do what I say, alright? You have to do what I tell you. I promised Mom I would keep you safe.” She lowered him into a corner and put a wooden crate in front of him. “Cedric you have to stay here for me and, whatever happens, don’t move, okay? You can’t move from this spot.”

“No, you can’t,” Cedric said to her. “You can’t leave me.” What came out instead was another low sound, deep from his gut, one of fear and terror. He held onto her all the tighter. “Don’t go after him, don’t, he’ll take you too.” She didn’t hear this part of course, Cedric knew this. However, he hoped that Elena heard it all the same.

Instead of staying, his sister pulled away from him, giving him a kiss on the top of the head. She was always wilfully brave – it was a quality that he admired in her except in moments like now, when her bravery could get her killed.

She turned away from him and started up the stairs. He knew that she hoped to catch the intruder, that she meant to keep her home safe, to avenge their parents. He got that, he knew that. Instead, Cedric was just worried that his sister would have her ass handed to her on a platter; or perhaps, in this case, her brain.

Elena reached the bottom of the stairs and had put her left foot on the first rung when there was a thud closer to their heads. He had abandoned the second floor, Cedric thought. Shit fuckers, Cedric thought.

vi

 

            The footsteps were coming down the hallway. Cedric hoped that his sister would look back, that she would come to him, but she wanted to go out fighting. She would go out her own way. “What the fuck are you doing?” Cedric asked. “Are you fucking stupid or something? We need to hide and stay safe.” What came out was his sister’s name. He had never been able to speak it before: “Elena!”

That stopped her. Her right hand, which had been poised to grasp the banister, stopped in mid air – then her arm fell to her side. Turning to Cedric, she looked at him, her eyes wide and somehow bright despite the shadows. There was a gloss of fluid over her  lower lids. Tears leaked down her face. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay to be afraid of the dark.”  What came out instead was a nod and a motion with his arm as if he were hugging her, pulling her closer.

As the footsteps neared the front of the doorway, his sister ran back to him, pulled him closer and grabbed another forgotten thing to hide them, in this case an steamer trunk with flaking leather and a potted plant. Cedric sighed. Not the best of defences, but it would have to do.

Curling into his sister’s arms, Cedric closed his eyes when the door opened. He had to admire the man’s thoroughness, despite the present circumstances. He had checked every room – he had done this before. Cedric thought of all the books he had read via audio cassette, all the voices’ mysteries he had heard and taken in. He can’t say that he had ever pictured himself being a victim, not in this sense of the word, anyway. Cedric didn’t like irony one bit.

He was all for literary word play and similes, even the occasional dose of sarcasm, but irony bothered him. He wondered how anything in life could be so cruel as to teach you a lesson. For Cedric, it just made him want to prove them wrong. He would not lie down; he would not step into the shadows and hide.

With a shift inside of him as he closed his eyes and let himself slip into temporary darkness, hoping that the killer would not find them, that his eyes would somehow pass them by, Cedric knew that, if it came down to it, he would do everything possible to make sure that Elena lived.

Come and get me, you son of a bitch, Cedric thought.

vii

 

            Cedric could hear the man’s footsteps. They descended one  at a time, dust falling down from the basement staircase. There was a slight shuffle on the steps as the man knocked the light bulb out of his way. Even with his eyes closed, Cedric experienced the light moving. Though he could not see the man, he could feel him. He was malice, he was dangerous. Every nerve in Cedric’s body said this.

The man reached the basement floor. There was a whispering sound of cloth and quick footsteps, scratching in the dust.

The man slid into the basement shadows. The ground shook under them and, despite her fear, Elena let out a small shriek beside him. She was too afraid to be quiet, He thought. Cedric was pretty sure that he had wet himself by this point, and that he would need a change of clothing if they got out of this alive. He normally hated baths, but this time would look forward to one.

Elena let out another loud shriek when the man grabbed hold of her arm. She tried to pull back from him and he pulled her forward, pulling out a long, serrated knife and slicing her right forearm open almost to the bone. A plume of blood flew into the air and landed on Cedric’s face. He opened his eyes.

As the man yanked Elena by the hair, Cedric saw his chance. His sister kicked the man in the shins as he dragged her back towards him. Grabbing one of the edges of the wooden crate with his right arm and pulling with his body weight, Cedric broke off the edge of the frame. He slinked forward, hidden, as his sister was dragged backward.

Pushing with his left leg, he focused with all his strength and pursued them to the stairs. He had never moved so far on his own before. His sister screamed again as the man reached around with his other hand and grabbed her by the throat. He meant to kill her right away than, he would have no time to prepare. Their attacker raised his hand to draw the blade of the knife across Elena’s throat. As Cedric moved with a speed he didn’t know he had ever possessed, his only thought was: Fuck, an axe, a knife, this guy has everything.

He reached around his sister and drove the wooden spike into the man’s side. As Cedric was at a lower position on the ground, the wooden piece slid up into the lower right side of the man’s abdomen, missing his sister’s back by inches. Cedric had broken the wood at a sharp angle and it sliced into the man, his weight as he moved in to cut his sisters throat giving the push enough of a thrust.

Blood rained on him and spluttered against Elena’s back as she moved away from the man and held onto Cedric. His face was bathed in the blood of two people. He thought of his mother, of his father. That would be two more. It’s a good thing they didn’t have more children, Cedric thought.

Elena wrapped her left arm around Cedric, even as the man fell. Blood pooled from their attackers wound, splattering the floor and their skin. Cedric would remember the sound of the blood forever – they would match the beat of his heart.

Crouching beside him, Elena let out a small scream when the man fell, hitting the ground with a wet slap. His life continued to pour out of him as both of them watched, gurgling onto the floor. Elena wrapped her left arm around him tighter, bringing Cedric even more close. “You saved us Ced,” Elena whispered. “You saved us.”

Nodding, Cedric held onto his sister. He nestled his cheek onto her shoulder – it was sticky with blood. “I love you Elena,” Cedric said. And for once, he said it. He had said the whole thing. Despite the uncertainty of the future, brightness filled him.

“I love you too, squirt,” Elena said. “I love you, too.”