‘The Smith of Hockley’ by James Brogden The Midas Scorpion was an assassin’s tool of the Elder World, from a time long before there were distinctions between magic and machine, or life and art, or death and love. It was made of gold, finely articulated, with a single bead of poison still on the tip …
“Kami Ga Kikoemasu” by Mike Chinn Each wave reared higher than the Oji-Maru’s rails. Hooked fingers of white spume reaching for the whale-chaser before they collapsed back into the grey sea. Ishimaeru’s guts clenched every time, leaving him shaking and hollow with fear. The next time that clawing foam might hide the gleam of bone, or the …
‘The Ballad of Lucy Lightfoot’ by Jan Edwards Only one remained on the Isle of Wight who remembered Lucy Lightfoot. He was the reason she had returned, and the reason she stood in the church porch, debating on whether seven hundred years was long enough. She hesitated, glancing toward the setting sun, and then retreated …
‘Lives’ by John Grant We are waiting for Christopher to get home. Sipping wine around the kitchen table, Alice and I are just at the stage of starting to get worried. He’s all right, we say to each other occasionally, betraying our concern that there might be something wrong. He’s all right: Dick Charters will …