You wrap me in colored blankets every night, muttering to yourself in an ancient tongue, the words falling from your lips like a desperate prayer, like a spell that never finds its mark. You are a mother at heart—just not my mother.
I watch you empty the basin at my window,
“This is all I need,” Hades muttered.
He peeked around the kitchen doorframe at the knot of self-invited guests mingling in his living room. Athena told him that crowds could be expected when you got a new puppy, but this was just adding insult to injury. I never asked for this.
The harsh lights in the interrogation room stung my eyes as Detective Ironflutter smacked her police-issued wand against her palm and fluttered her wings to loom over me. “C’mon, Ivory. Just tell us where the fairy godmother’s wand is.”
I leaned back but forced my eyes to meet hers.
Akiak’s life was a tapestry of legends.
She knew it was Silla, Keeper of Sky, who glazed the night with northern lights when he was lovesick for the Sun. The tears Tapeesa shed for her lost daughter caused the tiny arctic flowers to bloom on the hillsides in the warm season.
Torryn’s stomach tightened under their stares, and he flexed his grip on the ancient hilt. The sword’s flat steel lay cold against his shoulder, overly heavy in both weight and responsibility.
“That’s…” The old man at the center of the table shook his head, the glittering jewels and embroidery attesting to how much he and ..
Nadia had slept three nights in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother, and every night she had the same dream. Nightmare, really. She heard crying coming from the attic, and when she went to investigate, she found a three-foot-tall Japanese woman trapped in a wooden crate. Then the dream shifted,
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“Em! This wardrobe is perfect for your new apartment!” Gillian waved emphatically at a cedar monstrosity.
Scowling at her exuberant friend, Em pointed to deep scratches marring the doors. “Why would I want something that looks like it picked a fight with raccoons and lost?”
“We can sand those out. It’ll look vintage.”
You arrive that first morning at Cibola High School with low expectations. This is the muggy, muddy, backwater of Florida. The only bright side: you can absolutely dominate the social scene.
So, you enter with a bright smile directed at everyone from that hot basketball captain to the wallflower girl and even the custodian
I’d only wanted to disappear for a time, not be forgotten forever.
I grip the chalk with every muscle in my tired fingers. It scrapes my plea against the pavement in a desperate shade of blue. Mom or Dad will notice me this time. I lean back and rub my sore knees.
Dr. Byron Stoneburner inserted the bronze snake into a satchel as German bullets whizzed overhead. He secured the latch on the bag and mumbled a prayer.
Courage. Or Jack’s dead.
A disheveled officer nudged his arm. “You’re serious?”
Byron tightened his helmet chinstrap and placed a muddy boot on the trench ladder.
Nobody knew precisely where the relics came from nor how those with the money and power to assemble such collections managed to locate them in the first place.
Yet Hal was certain of one thing—at some point he had robbed and swindled them all.
“Let me guess. You see yourself as…
Haleh hunched over her loom at the back of her parents’ rug shop, a knot tightening in her chest as her father tried to reason with their most difficult customer.
“It takes time, Amir… You’ve asked for a large rug…” Father’s voice wavered. “We need another month. Remember, good things are worth the wait.”
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