The beginning of the song held her rapt, as if she were bearing sole witness to the apparition of an angel who had mastered his delivery of good news in four-four time.
“And tell me, Little Miss I-Like-To-Play-With-The-Dark-Arts, how does it feel when someone keeps you stuck some place you don’t want to be?”
Rory had been hexed once himself for a week in 1980. He shuddered, recalling the feeling of his tongue weighed down with iron chains.
The band played “What I Lose Now” fourteen more times after that.
Even now, Rory would meet some listeners who insisted that every disco song sounded the same. They had no idea of the dark bargain that Sergio Sequin had struck to hold the top five spots on the chart at the same time with the same song.
Rory let the song’s C minor opening chord progression wash over him so that he could parse it. Fresh as sushi, yet with something incredibly familiar about it.
The empty rooms inside Mrs. Morton’s house felt large and cold. The empty space inside her chest felt larger and colder, and filled with a terrible draft.
“I didn’t rescue you so you could go without marshmallows, Morry.”
Early on in his training, he spent his nights with other novices, scraping away at the low-life creatures that clung like barnacles to the edges of darkness. He then spent his days doing data entry.
As old as they were, gryphons sometimes had difficulty navigating the subtle undercurrents that moved the river of human social convention.