The Art of Drowning – 3.7 – By Phil Huston

Caswell felt the ragged heartbeat that sent almost imperceptible waves through the chill night air from the darkened corner of the upstairs deck outside his bedroom. He stepped through the sliding glass and into the moonless night. “This deck is why I bought an architectural monstrosity of glass cubes in the woods. Solitude, room to think on the big questions and all that rubbish. Cold, most nights [...]

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The Art of Drowning – 3.6 – By Phil Huston

Cas and Shona kneeled behind a wall of undergrowth in the unkempt and ill-mannered woods a mile from the Dunning estate. Unused as a family domicile, kept immaculate through generations of nobility and government “service”, held open as a museum when the weather was right. Available for weddings, retreats and revelry for those who could afford it. The pastoral bit of England’s green and pleasant a half mile [...]

The Art of Drowning – 3.5 – By Jac Forsyth

Notebook shows 18:58. A time unworthy of anything. CLICK. Jonah stops. Snaps the pleasures shut. Breath tight with fascination. And the lone drummer. Beats too fast for a warrior. Slowly. Slower. Slow. The curse that found no priest worthy. Chained and tamed. Sound means something has changed, always pays to find out what. CLICK [...]

Eeeeeek! The Art of Drowning – 3.3 – By Phil Huston

Shona shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glanced around the third-floor walkway of a council house in Manchester at three AM while Caswell picked the lock on the door of Leith Alger’s flat. “I shouldn’t be here,” she breathed. “I know this is how you work, but…” [...]

The Art of Drowning – 3.2 – By Phil Huston

Fashionably London was the last thing Caswell expected to open his door to on a rainy night in the country. He watched with some apprehension as Elise set a bottle of wine on the coffee table, removed her cape, laid it over the back of the couch and shook out her hair as fluidly as the water running down his windows. “It’s been almost two weeks since Cliftonwood, Cas. You weren’t going to call me?” [...]