Larkin set down her glass of spiced wine. She wrote Is truth pleasant? on a yellow legal pad. Ben, at the end of both his breath and his tether, watched her. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “I know it’s pitchy…
It was a wet-fingered October morning, the air like a formerly-celebrated guest who refused to notice the repeated glances at the calendar, when Annilee Morgan Fox first performed real magic…
