The stout at the Crown is frothy and just a bit sweet. Not sure how many I’ve drunk, but tonight isn’t the night for counting. If I was sure there’d be beer in heaven, I might be elsewhere.
Aliens. The outer-space sort. Came down from beyond months ago and decided last week they’d play
Why, oh why, did the baby and the aliens have to come on the same night?
Joey crouched on the bathroom counter, heart racing. Purple light from the crocodile-shaped spaceship outside bathed the house in an eerie glow. Glass shattered in the kitchen. A scaled figure ripped open the refrigerator and hissed at its contents.
The oil rig’s platform shuddered and lurched into the air.
Matthew Finnburg the Third watched the earth fall away beneath them, then turned to his companion. “Xena, what is happening?”
Xena’s black eyes widened, then clenched shut as the platform picked up speed. Her slender arms quivered from her grip on the rail. “I couldn’t say, sir.”
Aedus hated it when his hourglass talked. The majority of its speech was apocalyptic prophecy, and he would have given anything for it to be wrong. Just once.
Preferably now.
Stones cut through the soles of Aedus’ shoes as he sprinted down the hill, dragging a stretcher behind him.
I pulled the handcuffs from my belt and turned to the drug dealer, whom my partner held at gun point. The guy had somewhere in the area of twenty-seven arms and depending on what family he was from might have another—usually with a gun—hiding up one of his noses. I groaned.
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“Of course, it’s genuine.” I rub my sweaty palms together in a vain attempt to relieve my tension. “This is a worthy trade.”
This is the one. Surely this old farmer will deliver me from my burden.
“Burden, am I?”
Orc fumes! Not a moment’s peace.
“This isn’t a jolly jaunt for me either, Master.”
The monstrous leviathan rises from the depths, swimming across the bay toward Super Awesome City. I grin. At last, the battle where I prove myself has come. Every shortsighted inventor who dismissed my ideas, every teacher who gave me detention for starting food fights in class—they will all look upon me as their savior.
“Load the pineapults!” I bark.
Water, warm and smelling of copper, sprinkled across his face like the shower head had clogged up again. Jeff blinked once, twice, and peered up at vibrant blue skies speckled with fluffy white clouds.
Beautiful.
That one was shaped like a bunny.
Splat!
More stale water went up his nose.
I’ve been getting out more ever since the tiger chose not to eat me.
I don’t care for the brittle air poking my eyes, nor do I enjoy the shrieking pigeons that habitually scatter when I—and only I—approach. But today, as I bump against strangers on the public bus, I have a mission: my first date with Harry.
“Psst. Lase, where are you?”
“Over here.”
Brande wandered between bookshelves. “Where? I see only books.”
“Yes, isn’t it amazing?” Lase appeared from behind a stack holding four musty tomes.
There were no bats. So weird. Most vampires enjoyed playing into the stereotypes. Throughout her volunteering as a bloodlender, Emily had seen shutters painted blood red, fang-shaped windows, and even encountered guard bats that pooped on her head.
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“Here’s your pay, kid.” The foreman of the road crew dropped a few crumpled bills into Karl’s hand. “Now scram.”
“Come on, man.” Karl moaned. “What does it even matter? I’m sixteen. So what? I can scoop up dead raccoons better than anybody else on your crew.”
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