Zmey Gorynych stalked through the golden halls of Catherine Palace. Fire burned beneath his skin, and his long fingers curved into talons. He could not tarry in his mission—his true, powerful form yearned to be unleashed. Now that he was no longer tethered to humanity by Alyona’s soft words, her gentle kisses,
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I’ve just collapsed my blind when I realize two things.
First, the bushveld is silent.
Second, I’m being hunted.
If my hunch is correct, I’m being hunted by the same man-eating lion I’ve been stalking for the past three weeks. He must be tired of toying with me. Tired of avoiding my blind.
I arrive in the Valley of the Kings in an air conditioned car. When I open the door, I’m blasted with Egypt’s oppressive heat. Howard’s tent is his only protection from the sweltering sun, but he steps out to welcome me to the set.
He’s a famous, multi-award-winning director, so I’m willing to…
Searchlights lit the night sky, mounted on the aliens’ vehicles that raced over the hill. Iya, ever on guard, barked orders. “Tembo, quickly, to the trees. Tiou, help the young. Indloyu, with me.”
There wasn’t much hope. Someone was going to die. Iya pushed two of her daughters out of the way…
Raiders shoved Dr. Byron Stoneburner into the wooden crate. Hands bound, mouth gagged, the professor squirmed while the sliding lid clicked into place—trapping him within a world of darkness as thudding hammers nailed his coffin shut.
“What do we do with grave robbers?” a muffled voice crooned from outside the box.
The clown bolted from the trailer across the open space to the big top and hurdled over the velvet rope at the entrance. Serella only had time to sputter “Hey!” before he was inside. Two men wearing FBI vests followed. She unhooked the rope without a word. Damn. Probably another drug dealer.
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Vince was grateful for his wetsuit, even though the frigid waters of the Potomac still stung as he rolled out of his boat that fated January morning. He gasped. Instantly, his bones began to ache.
I’m too old for this.
The sign plastered on a buoy read, “POOR VISIBILITY, STRONG CURRENTS.”
Donner. Where’s Donner?
Nicholas shielded his face from the blizzard’s gale, lifted his kerosene lamp, and counted the antlered heads of his reindeer. Dasher. Dancer.
A January gust smacked his red coat. Snow stung rosy cheeks.
Prancer… Vixen. The old man’s teeth gritted. Comet… Cupid… Blitzen…
Donner?
Yukon peaks loomed in silent observance…
A dozen people tread through the corn. Insects fall and writhe against their careful hands as they part the stalks. They curse under their breath for not sowing the seeds in tidy, even rows. Instead, the plants grew nestled close together, their rows zigzagging, mazelike across the miles of flat land.
She is missing.
As the Imperial heir, Sergei received virtually all within our mother’s possession upon her death: title, wealth, lands—even the loyalty of her Court and Council. She ordered them to raise their hands and vow over her deathbed to support Sergei. Such an oath holds more power than any law.
Yet to my mother’s…
Mark ducked away from a barrage of hail moments before the gunshot clacked. The bullet skimmed his shoulder as a gust, gritty and wet, kicked him to the sidewalk. The tornado slashing through the Indiana countryside was closing in—debris and trees rotating in a torrid sky like dust in a vacuum.
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I sit alone on the silent space station that was supposed to make me famous. Now, it’s hardly more than a dead shell. The bright overhead lights have been replaced by the red emergency lights behind me. The sun peers around the cursed planet below. I wonder if there are any eyes staring
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