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Featuring the 750th story published in BCS! "Merry in Time" by Kathleen Jennings. Merry in Time by Kathleen Jennings. Venturing by Jonathan Louis Duckworth. BCS 292: Venturing by Jonathan Louis Duckworth.
"Ah, true roses are tricky," she said, a little sourly. But then she shook back her hair. "Or so I've heard. I've never been...at least, before this—” and she gestured to the boughs that never quite forced them to duck, “you didn’t look at— I mean, you wouldn’t have— That is, I wasn’t the sort to be given any flowers."
“Old bones like those back in the shop just have a little smouldering spark of power left in them,” Azrael said. “Bibles, though, they’re like lightning bolts. Ain’t many that can handle them without getting destroyed. And I ain’t seen any protective wards on you nephilim like on these pilgrims.”
The trestle bridge caught fire in 1911. Crisped from existence, right as a locomotive crossed. The train dropped. The ravine caught it. There’s that banjo tune from back then, something about bone and coal and iron and souls. Sad song about a sad day and fairly accurate. It has a verse about the corn, too.
The bodies of the men and women that decorated the buildings and streets didn't spook Azrael's horse any more than they spooked him. Nothing had spooked it since he'd raised it from the dead. The horses of the men with him, on the other hand, were as skittish as if they smelled hellspawn on the wind. Maybe they did. But Azrael reckoned it was more likely the opposite of hellspawn that had done this.