“Ah, so this is what that girl meant by ‘Wandering Library.’” I study the dark appaloosa—from the tome-shaped bags hanging from his sides to the book-thieving mud devouring his feet.
Rescuing a horse is one thing, but reading materials?
I stay far away from the thick goop. The earth still squishes beneath my
Aether’s Edge floated demurely across the sky, but inside the dirigible manor’s private study, Kytt Windthorn’s language was anything but ladylike.
“Thomas Edison’s trousers!” Kytt swiped a curl out of her face and pressed her ear to the cold metal door of an Iron Guardian X99. They were finicky under the best circumstances
“What in Hades are you doing here?”
Kytt Windthorn scrambled away from the person who had whispered over her left shoulder. She jerked her head, knocking her glasses askew. Kytt turned around and crouched next to a display case of a shadow-filled Palmer’s Jewelry Store. She crossed her arms, a diamond necklace swaying
Announcing the winners of the “Remember December” flash fiction contest!
Read it now
“Come on!” Kytt grunted as she tugged on the massive creature’s leash. “Just think, one day. Just one day, then we’ll get it.”
The dragon, Fishes, refused to budge. Sighing, Kytt shoved her glasses back and looked over her shoulder at the unblinking orange eyes.
“Money.” she coaxed, rubbed her blistered, rope-burned fingers.
My stomach lurched as I peered farther into the yawning mouth of the volcano. One wrong move and I’d fall to my death. Fortunately, this mountain had been dormant for years. I wouldn’t die from magma—but if the jagged rocks didn’t finish me off, the dragon probably would.
Come on, Kytt. Focus!
“Kytt! Wake up!”
A sharp slap of pain explodes across my cheek. My eyes shoot open, and I bolt into a sitting position.
“What happened?” I massage a throbbing spot on the back of my head. “My glasses! Where are my glasses?” Panic sets in; I’m as good as dead without my glasses.
Colors flickered along the ad wall beside me as a female voice extolled the benefits of a visit to the Olympus Mons spa. You can’t be talking to me.
“Kytt Windthorn!” The AI must have sensed my disinterest, swapping its sultry tone for a knife-edge. “Don’t you want to go to Mars?”
After all the crap life’s dealt me, I’d developed a motto. When life gives you lemons… steal everything else.
In this city you can shoplift up to one thousand dollars and it’s just a misdemeanor.
You can also steal a heck of a lot more if you’re good at it, and by “good”
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