The Year's Best Science Fiction & Fantasy, 2009 Edition
The first volume of The Year's Best Science Fiction and Fantasy features over a quarter million words of fiction by some of the genre's greatest authors, including Peter S. Beagle, Elizabeth Bear, Jay Lake, Ian McDonald, Sarah Monette, Garth Nix, Naomi Novik, Robert Reed, Patrick Rothfuss, and many more, as selected by Rich Horton, a well-known and well-received contributor to many of the field's most respected magazines.
started to wrap my legs around him but he pushed them away and sat up as he fucked me, watching me from above with a face I couldn’t read. As he got closer, he doubled over me, moving his sweaty body against mine. I felt buried, underground. His breath was too hot on my shoulder as he came in a spurt on my stomach. He wiped it off and settled on top of me. I stroked his gray hair. Before I could chicken out, I said, “I love you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but I’d been wanting to say it for so
good,” Franz said. He lay on the bed with his jumpsuit half unzipped, revealing the bandages across his chest. The blade had missed the lung and the heart, tearing only muscle. He’d be fine in a few weeks. “I almost believed you myself. The oath part was genius.” “I meant it,” Alycia said. She went to the stainless steel sink and set down the plastic first-aid kit she’d brought. Franz said, “Come on, there’s no way you could keep him on GLS. It made him suicidal and homicidal.” “They’re not
room and found two guys there. One sat on the bed with a portable typewriter on his lap, pecking away. The other stood by the window and said, “ . . . real estate tax that’s fair for all.” “For everybody,” said the guy with the typewriter, “Sounds better.” Then they noticed we were there and gave us a couple of bucks to go away. Another time, Mark and I came back from the playground to find his father out on the front porch talking to the press who stood on the front lawn. This, I think, was
railing for the first few days, at the pale white gleam of marble and masonry which could yet be glimpsed in places, when the sailors gave her a bit of spell-light to cast down below. “There’s nowt to see, though, miss,” the master said in fatherly tones, while she peered hopefully. Only the occasional shark, or sometimes one of the enormous sea-spiders, clambering over the ruined towers with their long spindly red legs, but that was all—no gleam of lost treasure, no sparks of ancient magic.
from the gun. “What the hell are you doing?” Jack got to his feet. “I could ask you the same question.” “I found this. I wondered what it was.” Jack knew she didn’t “find” the gun. It had been buried under old notebooks inside a box at the back of a closet. Jack expected that Deana would invent some excuse for why she’d been digging into Jack’s private possessions, but the excuse wouldn’t be worth believing. What infuriated Jack most was that he’d actually been thinking of showing Deana the