339 Quotes About Mystery-suspense

Mountainside, cloaked in falling straight into water as smooth and reflective as glass. You knew, looking at it, that it was a mile deep. Lush spring flowers, laughing sky. But changeable, and everywhere bones of rock. Good country in summer, but dangerous if approached without caution and, in winter, utterly isolated from the next valley by the mountains suddenly cloaked in ice and mist. Troll country.

She looked at me with the same concentration she had directed at the painting. I felt her gaze on the bones, the cant of my eyebrows; weighing the line of jaw and length of neck; noting colour and shadow.

I wandered, paying no particular attention, just absorbing the city through the soles of my shoes and the taste on my tongue.

No one knew me; there was no one to compare my behaviour in the shop with my behaviour at other times. I could be fluid and responsible only to myself.

She looked alert and lithe, a dancer with briefcase in the wrong building.

The music was like a living stream, pulsing beneath bodies, collecting thickly in dark corners, vibrating bone so hard it might have been cartilege.

The music was sinuous, insistent. She was moving with it again, swaying silver like a sleeping fish in its current.

How had she managed to get inside me, slip between my ribs and rest against my heart without me feeling it?

This country’s bones and flesh are made of rock and its blood is the ice-cold water of glacier melt.