Den sloshed through the streets of the City With No Name. Overhead, a sagging wire sparked as it trembled in the rancid wind. There’d be another fire soon. He should probably call some Smokers out to take care of it. Instead, he turned down an alley.
Where is he?
Dusk coated the outback
“We walked into a war zone for a leaf?” Axel crossed his arms.
Remy scanned the trees for folha, one of the many ingredients they’d left camp to find. The bark was sadly free of green vines.
Her stomach growled. Though the emerald canopy hid the sun overhead, Remy guessed it was around midafternoon,
“For the last time, Mr. Hernandez,” I enunciate, poking savage holes in my lime-green blotter with my peacock pen, “you cannot land in Wittenberg, Germany on October 31, 1517.”
“Killjoy,” mutters the time traveler on the other end of the phone. “All I wanted to do was have a look around.”
Shut the gates!”
Lieutenant Pearce snapped up as his comm unit screeched with the command. His chair creaked angrily at the abuse, and the report he had been engrossed in fell to the floor.
“Copy that? What’s going on?”
“It’s Farley! Gamma Patrol! Shut the gates, Pearce!”
The officer instinctively moved his hand
The rain pours down over my shoulders. I crouch next to the tree we used to climb, sobbing.
“It’s the circle of life, Maya.” I startle as Mama comes up behind me. “You have to let him go.”
I rest my palm against the wet grass. “Why?”
“The way of life,” Mama repeats.
For all his bone-shuddering exhaustion, Tyr couldn’t sleep. In the ruddy half-light, he could make out his brother’s prone form, huddled on the thin blanket they used as a bed. His breathing was slow, steady.
At least one of them would be rested before they escaped.
Tyr curled his knees to his chest.
“Do you know what color fae blood is?
Green, my son, naught but green—
So go now forth and slay their queen.
But beware, for she seeks her mate,
And only death can stop this fate.
For if she steals one of your kin,
Take her life to give the changeling back his.”
All I need is a nightmare.
Alora paused on the threshold of the Dream Mines and took a deep, steadying breath. For the past century, she’d mined dreams to occupy herself while she waited for the chance to break her sleeping curse and leave the dreamworld forever. Sweet waking rather than sweet dreams.
The grass was up to Abigail’s chin now. If she didn’t find Ryn soon, it would consume the entire kingdom.
Abigail pushed her way through the verdant blades consuming her village. Couldn’t the boy have chosen a different enchantment? Something to do with rocks, perhaps? She could deal with pesky boulders.
CT hunched his shoulders against the drizzle and the gazes of other pedestrians, his hood pulled up to hide his face. Neon signs colored the sidewalk and steel buildings odd tones in the night. Between the hordes of people, he glimpsed an officer ahead and swung toward a video advertisement sign, feigning interest.
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“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Willow grumbled, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her face. She trudged through the shallow, mucky water. Only Henry would think it was a good idea to spend their weekend stomping around a mosquito-infested swamp searching for something that didn’t exist.
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Havok Story Podcast, Episode 27: “The Mysterious Scent of Cookies” By Rachael Kemme
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