Fighting monsters and demons in association with BBC Cult.
The morning brought with it clear thought. At least that was Tamara Swift's perception. She had woken before sunrise, then lain in the soft feather bed until she heard the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen below. She knew that time spent alone with her thoughts was vital and precious. It was in these moments that she was able to work through problems with acuity and clarity.
The question that vexed her this morning: What in God's good name is Wild Edric doing with all those human babies he had stolen? For Tamara knew in her soul that the ghostly hunter from the previous evening was also the seducer of Blackbriar's innocents.
Now she sat at the breakfast table in the vast kitchen of The Rose and Thorn, and she watched Betsy Gilroy hunch over the stove, sullenly slopping porridge into wooden bowls. The girl's lank hair was the colour of straw and her eyes - which might once have been the blue of a summer's day - were now opaque and empty. She was gaunt and pale, the skin of her face stretched tautly over bone.
The girl's a walking wraith, Tamara thought darkly. Yet once she had
