Mr Drover was occupied with mending the broken dreamcatchers in the trees by the west gates. They had been torn to shreds by the heavy rains, and dreamcatchers, he explained, needle and thread in hand as he left the hall, were an essential ward against roaming revenants. H...
“You actually live here?” she asked, unable to keep scorn entirely out of her voice, if she was even trying to. “Above a café?” “Such is the glamorous life of a Blue Lab toxicologist,” I replied unapologetically as I finally got out of the car. “Maybe you can suggest a pay...