“No way that is Regency appropriate!” I said for the millionth time, my eyes transfixed on my sister’s laptop screen. There, amid the well-groomed greenery of a twisty garden labyrinth, was a hot, brown-skinned lord of the manor doing seriously R-rated things to a milquetoast but moaning lady. I wasn’t a prude or anything, but all those barely covered heaving bosoms were a lot to take on a school night. “Jane Austen would definitely not approve!”
Waiting on Wednesday ~ Stuff of Nightmares: The Monster Makers by R.L. Stine, A.L. Kaplan, Roman Titov
Screeching. Meddling. Stinking bloody fucking harpies.
But the sound of an axe blade as it stops said screeching? Bliss.
Leaning against a nearby alleyway wall, I dangled a pair of enchanted shackles between two fingers. The funny thing about harpies was… they could fly. But with the right incentive, also known as yanking their asses back to solid ground, you could easily kill ’em. Not many guys could handle the job, so they came to me. Hephaistos. God of the Forge and blacksmithing extraordinaire.