Gaul,47 BC
Scents of olive oil and flour tickle my nose as I set up my bread stand. Caesar’s statue rises above me, a constant reminder of who’s in charge. That I can never escape those who are always watching. I send a prayer to the gods thanking them for the coolness of the
She’s not there. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. When I reopened them, the beaked creature still beckoned to me from behind our masonry stove, her clawed hand frantic. Sighing, I stared pointedly at my knitting. She’s not there.
Only, I knew she was.
I just had no idea why no one else
Huey, god of mischief, peeked over the floating platform’s edge. Below, the European countryside showed patches of various greenery.
“All this flying is making me sick,” Tema moaned.
He turned to his friend. Her face had grown pale.
She put her hands over her stomach. “I think you’re going to have to lead
Thomas snuck into the graveyard at midnight.
Carrying an oil lamp low in his left hand, he hoisted the shovel in his right and slinked among the tombstones until he located his prize—a mound of dirt, newly churned, resting at the foot of a humble marker. The lantern’s quivering flame danced across
“You know, you’ve got this all wrong.” Aloysia glared at her unwanted visitor, who’d just burst into her tiny cabin in the heart of Germany’s Black Forest and announced his intention to “rescue” her.
The knight in shining armor stood in front of the twelve-year-old girl, his jaw slack, eyes bulging.
Honestly.
There is beauty all around me— it is breathtaking, heart rending. I have opened my eyes to a world of color, of laughter and dancing. I have taken breath and smelled bonfires and fresh snow. Children sing and dance through the Polish village while maidens adorn the trees with hollowed eggs and ribbons.
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Big Ben chimes the hour. One. Two. Three. Four… all the way to nine. Nine in the evening. But it seems darker. Blacker than midnight. Not even a candle allowed. Shadows lie heavy over London, suppressing all thoughts and laughter. I toss off the covers, trying to free myself from the constricting bed clothes.
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Safe inside the brick house, the three little pigs exchanged high-twos as the sweaty, exhausted wolf slunk away in defeat.
Big brother Wally chuckled. “I knew all that huffing and puffing was just a bluff.”
Younger sister Trish hugged Wally. “You saved our pigskins.”
Youngest sister Carrie joined in the hug. “Wally, we were
It seemed odd that the daughter of Queen Titania considered an app her worst enemy, but throughout the centuries, this fae had never encountered a more devious opponent.
“Don’t be cross just because you don’t understand technology,” Wally, my human thrall—excuse me, he preferred the term flatmate—said. “You see—”
The ghosts are out in full force tonight at Chetham Library—the oldest public library in Great Britain. They like to wander up and down the sleek, black stacks, rattling the cabinets that hold their books. The sounds echo around the vaulted ceilings, dark wood reflecting the moonlight and my torch as I run
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Cover reveal and the winners of Havok’s Vice & Virtue anthology contest!
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It was that time of year when Lancaster Manor’s garden was filled with all the colors and fragrances which have given English gardens their reputation. In the middle of the garden grew a large oak tree with branches that spread like welcoming arms. Nestled in these branches was Molly Lancaster, with her nose
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