There in that white-gilt bedroom like a tomb, where I believe none of Gatsby's guests had ever before set foot except by mistake — none until Daisy, and I was only her adjunct and proxy, an accessory to her presence there in the house. He had forgotten about me then. He had forgotten about me now. I was his only witness.

Debbie, Holden, a tub of Vaseline, and a lazy Sunday. When they're unlucky, they get to bring their work home with them.

Caleb wakes up on the floor.

Roland trades a few words with a dead man.

Gibson surveys the evidence of his recreational activities as he readies himself to serve.

Ian likes to be helpful. Adam needs a whole lot of help.

In Egypt, the emperor sleeps poorly.

There are prisons, and prisoners.

The spark of it starts small, well beneath Jiang Cheng’s notice, but builds steadily.

The first time, though of course he doesn't know it's the first time, everything went exactly according to plan. Crowley got the baby, right on time. He took it to the nunnery, and didn't stop to talk to the man waiting outside. He observed the whole thing, and made sure no funny business happened. At the end of the night, the Antichrist went home with the Dowlings.

It takes 600 more tries to get it going exactly according to the right plan.