Yesterday, Albert Cook offered me a ride home from school. Thanking him, I scrambled into his Pa’s wagon. We talked of that day’s ball game and spelling bee.
Finally, he asked, “Ever see a ghost around your place, Pete?”
I shook my head. “Nope. My grandfolks died there last month, but they’re lying
“Last year, we placed over six hundred kittens into foster care! That’s a lot of names, and we don’t allow any to be reused. Every kitten is unique!”
The bubbly shelter manager flipped to the next slide in her presentation. Everyone in the class gave a drawn out “Awww!” at the collage
I’ve heard it said that fashion is pain, but for me, it could also be deadly.
As a finalist on Model Designer: Olympus Edition, the hottest fashion competition on TV, I was going to have to navigate that narrow catwalk very carefully.
I frowned at the dressform as I pinned folds
I’m sunning myself on a rock when I hear the shuffle of human feet rubbing against dirt. I swivel my head, and my tongue flickers in and out, detecting sweat, cinnamon, and the heady tang of the flowering bidya that Mamua planted just for me by the front of her hut.
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Cyra, how will you do this?
I have no answer to give myself as I trudge across this scorching desert. I only know that I must try. Shimmering columns of heat rise before my eyes. I am tempted—so tempted—to discard the armor that protects my arms, chest, and legs.
Every patron averted his gaze as Karis walked into the tavern. Even the barkeep avoided her eye while he took her order. She selected a random ale from the list and sat down. The tavern’s occupants continued to converse in hushed whispers.
Karis rolled her eyes and faced the room. “Look, I’m not here
I smell the humans before I see them.
Their oily scent mixes with the sharp freshness of wet snow. I catch a whiff of woodsmoke and the faint crackle of a campfire.
My hackles rise. I growl deep in my throat. My wolf pups are asleep in their den a safe distance
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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Marta clutched a bag of medicinal herbs as she hurried down the dusty street. She brushed past a man holding a chicken he had just purchased, and she jumped backward at the animal’s squawk. Marta collided with a boy grasping a wooden box. It fell with a crunch.
“Dios mio!” The boy glared.
The portal closed behind me with a whumph and a sharp scent like fresh mustard. I shielded my eyes against glaring sunlight. A great desert stretched as far as I could see, dunes slowly baking in an oppressive heat.
I checked my list.
A. Valis – The Vanishing Unicorn
I was hunting a human
The portal closed behind me with a whumph and a smell like rotten eggs. My eyes watered as I tried not to gag on the stench.
The clicks, buzzes, and cries of a vibrant emerald jungle enveloped me, followed swiftly by a sodden blanket of humidity. My dark human hair and ridiculous human robes
“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
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