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380 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 16, 2024


“Oh, tsk, Royce. I don’t sleep. I only make others sleep—sleep, and dream of me.” It was a portion of the quote inscribed on a swooping portion of my hourglass’s golden frame. And on the inside of that inscription, in a place only I could see, was the phrase: Time gives fate a reason. Fate gives time a point.
“Because sometimes—very rarely—people did get to hire me.
And on those occasions I would get to not only follow them for a time, but do their bidding, and I would be permitted to not just feed on fear and hate and terror, but allowed to cause it.
Personally.
Violently.
Up until their sand ran out and I finally slaughtered them.”
“I rolled the sleeve of my scratchy sweater up, to find that somehow I’d been branded with an hourglass, just like the images I’d seen on old coroners reports in my research—the sign of the Hourglass Killer.
But what those photos hadn’t shown was the inside of the brand, where the hourglass’s sand was.
It was tattooed red . . . and the ink was moving.
Draining from one chamber into the next, ever so slowly.”
“And you can’t tell me any of your other names?” Maybe they’d have a clue for me as to what he actually was, other than a death-dealing serial-killing smoke-monster that’d apparently been alive for a century.