As the troubled clouds struck inland from the sea, they fell on top of each other and reshaped themselves in slow motion; a constant state of flux. With her binoculars, Rhona found herself concentrating on a hole that had opened up in one of the clouds, permitting a view deeper into the storm. This region was particularly violent, lightning bolts flashing between clouds every few seconds like intermittent tendrils of magnificent blue fire.

Blue Lightning

“She was anyone’s daughter,” replied the Inspector flatly, “or son, or husband, or wife, or close friend. Don’t just think it was her who was a victim of these machinations; there were many more. These are the consequences you didn’t think about, these are the people you labelled collateral damage without more than a passing thought. In all these years you tried to save your husband… you killed your daughter.

Dinner at the Maharajah