My grandfather loved music. No matter what time of day, or what he was doing, something was always playing on the old phonograph in his cozy living room. I used to come over and help him with little things around the house like fixing the...

Roy’s hand dripped over the chalice. Crimson drops made black in the dimness, echoing as they mingled with the blood of everyone else who had preceded us. β€œWhat the—” I began, grabbing for Roy’s arm to pull him back, but he shoved me away. β€œI don’t even...