I grip Flor’s clammy arms and hoist her onto my back. Crouching low, I pass rows of straw cottages and head for the gloomy thicket. Flor presses a feverish cheek against the nape of my neck and sighs, her breath sweetened with nopal. Mamá must have coaxed some fried cactus down her throat
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I could feel the kitten’s heartbeat.
That shouldn’t have been possible.
Opening his mouth, the kitten let out a tiny meow, showing off his small pink tongue. I hugged him to my chest and glanced around the alley. We were still alone, unnoticed.
I’d stepped into the alley to adjust my glitching earpiece.
Lykaina slid the box across the desk with a gentle smile. “A gift from the marshes of Hecate.”
Mr. Collins opened the lid and inhaled deeply. His eyes drifted closed. “Fresh cranberries. Marvelous.”
“Perhaps not the bounty one would receive from Demeter…” Lyka spread her hands. “But we share what is ours.”
Dr. Byron Stoneburner made his camp on the side of the Artic mountain. He nibbled what jerky remained in his pack and warmed his frostbitten nose next to the fire, calculating his progress by the aged map in his possession. The yellowing pages had turned brittle in the frosty air, but he had memorized
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Adam observed the flock of pigeons. The whole time he’d been sitting on the rusted park bench, seeds disappeared around only one. The real pigeon ate the seeds he threw at it; the drones just pecked at the ground.
A few drone birds took flight. Adam glanced at his watch. Right on schedule.
Sadie gives herself sixty seconds to decide the course of the rest of her life.
Follow the scorched trail or forget her entire investigation.
Arson investigator Detective Sadie Jenkins has spent six months following every lead on the arsons in the Northern National Parks. Though she’s sacrificed countless nights of sleep investigating the
I’m tossed from the charter plane at two thousand feet, plummeting toward the Earth without a parachute. If gravity proves true, I’ll skewer the Alaskan treetops in seconds.
A week in the remote wilderness had seemed like a good idea. It meant time to clear my head. Campfires and hunting. Reflection and recovery
“Ready when you are, Cap’n Muldoon.”
My first mate O’Hara squints expectantly through his good eye, the other covered with a black patch. The crew of the Muirgen clusters behind him, waiting for my signal.
Our target, the whaling ship Pawtuxet, flounders on the choppy gray sea, her mast shattered by a well-placed
Waves lapped against the ship’s hull as we eased as close to the island’s rocky coast as we dared. Even with a full moon, I couldn’t see any of the island’s inhabitants—but I could hear them.
“It’s so beautiful,” someone sighed.
Swinging around, I found a sailor walking in a trance
Coppelia Potts, Nightmare Hunter, watched her brother Wolfgang pick up a tiny stone bird. He shuddered as he offered it to her.
“You know that scene in Narnia where the White Witch turns the animals to statues?” He swallowed as Coppelia turned the unfortunate bluebird around in her hands. “That’s what I feel
Splitting the long grass with her snout, Airi observed the soldiers as they lounged around a fire. They were only a day’s march from home, where they would hand over their “prize.” With keen eyes, Airi scanned the camp.
There, on the north side. Tadashi leaned against a tree, his hands bound behind
The calm night shattered into blood-curdling screams.
Lo-en jolted awake at the base of the old spine tree acting as her cover. The screams echoed through the village beyond the forest’s edge as a family awakened to learn it was their house, their loved one that had been chosen as that night’s sacrifice.
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