These two short stories are mirror images of each other - one contemporary London tale laced with the supernatural, and one retelling of the ancient myths of Troy that's entirely human. What they have in common, though, is a blend of brutality and beauty that kept me spinning between attraction and revulsion.
You didn’t want to become the sort of person who didn’t help an entoiled mother, but you became one. No one had helped her when she had needed it. And now her help muscles had withered away.