Aeaea on the Seas
by Hester J. Rook
“Oh, go to the crows,” I snarled under my breath as the knocker slammed home. The door was supposed to be a discouragement to visitors, large and heavy and dark, the handle made up of a curl of iron shaped like a beautiful maiden with fanged dogs at her thighs, eye tormented. Scylla, in the form I’d turned her into so many years ago: Remember my power. Do not come to me lightly.
But no, there it was again, a rapping that echoed through the old house.
“What’s wrong, flower?” Her voice was strangled down the phone.
“Don’t worry, darling. I just have a visitor.”
She chuckled, low and dry. “I really need to teach you my old trick for dealing with them.”
“You forget, my love. I have my own tricks.” (Continue Reading…)