Cyrus Montez knelt by the large print in the mud and surveyed the surrounding jungle. “We’re close.”
The native guide, hoisting a spear and, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, nodded and waved his arm, motioning for Montez to follow.
“The Phoberomys?” Julie Szubanski shouldered her pack and prepared her DSLR camera.
“Of all the things we could do on your first trip as a Nightmare Hunter, you pick this.” Coppelia Potts carefully guided her submarine through the dark waters. Huge floodlights illuminated murky depths while her brother, Wolfgang, scanned the monitors for any signs of life.
Seth, their Nightmare Hunter trainee, leaned back
Doug’s phone slipped from his hand and skidded down the hillside below the hiking trail. He sucked in his breath with annoyance. “Screen’s probably cracked.” It had all his contact info on it, too.
Now how am I going to get it back? Can’t make it down there myself, not with my hip
Devon threw up his hands. “We’re lost.”
The national park was vast, and we had strayed off the path. He turned to me as if looking for answers. “Should’ve brought the personal locator beacon like I told you.”
Laura walked up from behind, patted me on the shoulder, and waved her cell phone.
My father said I’d find my inheritance in the cliffs.
We walked there many chilly evenings before he died. I loved the mighty crash of the ocean against the white rock walls below us. So majestic and haunting.
I always had a feeling this captivating place had something to do with my father’s occupation.
Tallest bridge in the city, midday, alone. My gizzard grumbles. Should I have eaten? Nah, waste of food.
I approach the suspension tower’s edge and glance down, my talons gripping the rim. If I’m not careful, my wings might flare open and ruin my plans. I unclip my messenger bag and retrieve the rope.
“What we have here is a mystery, my friends.” Ten-year-old Ana addressed the row of stuffed animals—and one real girl—that sat at attention.
The girl raised her hand, and Ana swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Mabel?”
“This is just a pretend mystery, right?”
Ana loved her cousin dearly, but, by Shakespeare’s pen,
Something was killing the chickens. Outside the window, in the coop, their squawks broke the silent Kentucky night beyond the homestead’s walls—chaotic bursts of fear and agony.
A boy of fifteen, Roland Chadwick sprang out of bed while his younger brother and sister gazed at him wide-eyed from the mattress the three of them shared
“Remember, Scarlet, you’re a predator. The alpha. Responsible for protecting your territory.”
I grip my axe tighter and squeeze my eyes shut, fully centered on the low rumble of Rufus’s voice.
“A successful Guardian strikes first. So no threat reaches your pack. Now…” His footsteps pad away. “Strike!”
My eyes fly open, and I hurl
In the wild, underestimating a wolf could be deadly. And, in Adia’s opinion, slaying a wolf was vastly overrated. Hunters argued that murdering one proved dominance over the beast, but that was not the case. One could luck into a kill, but it took a formidable person to outsmart and control the will of
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As Sphinx rolled over, the pain ripped at his side. He whimpered and stretched out one big, clawed Dutch Shepard foot to touch the kennel gate. What good was being in a spacious den if he couldn’t move around? Besides, there were bad guys out there to catch.
“Easy now.” The gentle nurse
I grasp the cold metal handle and swing open the door of Interrogation room B. With its cinder block walls, steel table, and single chair that sit facing the door, it sends a chill down my spine. My bond pet nestles closer to my neck, hiding from the man tied to the chair.
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