Track This Story: Feed
| Ch. # | Chapter Title | Word Count | Reviews |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 |
"Thanks for your help with the slugs." It rained that morning. |
2,932 | 1 |
| 2 |
"Books can be very dangerous." Phaedra checked her pocket watch; he was late, Prospero P. Smith. |
3,778 | 0 |
| 3 |
"There's no sense in panicking!" Phaedra came into Slug and Jiggers that Sunday, as she did every Sunday, to meet with suppliers and a few select clients while the shop was closed. |
6,589 | 0 |
| 4 |
"A pity -- I was enjoying that." "Phaedra, do you know what happened to the tarantulas? I was sure we had more." |
5,877 | 0 |
| 5 |
"This isn't a Victorian novel." She waited for him til four o’clock on Sunday, distractedly disemboweling horned toads in a state of increasing agitation, before she accepted that he wouldn’t be coming. |
6,676 | 1 |
| 6 |
"Are you suggesting that I embezzle rodents?" Phaedra emerged from the shower, her skin raw and pink with steam, to find Hector in the living room, wrestling a lightning bolt. |
6,035 | 1 |
| 7 |
"A regular holiday." Phaedra stumbled towards Diagon Alley in the chill, pale light of dawn, her feet frozen in her thin, leather boots. |
7,213 | 2 |
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