Jaq Orleans no longer had a home to go back to. The war was over, the graves dug and covered, the medals all hung. After six years of fighting against the evil trying to invade their nation, his people had won. They’d finally won.
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David crouched underneath a twisted rock formation at the base of the Temporal Cliffs. His trusty radiance revolver, the oldest of its kind, fit snugly in his hand. Overhead, storm clouds gathered, made darker by the wraiths’ smoky black trails.
Thunder rolled across the sky.
I stumbled out of the beam of light, doing my best to keep my balance on the icy sidewalk.
The house seemed smaller than I’d been expecting. All the houses were smaller than I’d expected.
“Where am I?” I asked Mission Control.
“Human village.” Cheryl smacked her gum in my earpiece.
Most people thought the cemetery was haunted. I knew better. It sat right atop the divide where the veil between worlds was weakest. Moonlight spilled through the clouds above, and when a sudden chill on the breeze drew goosebumps down my arms, my heart soared.
He’s here.
Jake. My sweet Jake, walking with me
Any minute. I knew he would show up. I stood at the forest’s edge, sweating in the humid, late afternoon air. Even at the end of the day, the summer heat sweltered.
A shadow moved among the trees. Finally! My proof.
I raised my disposable camera and took a photo. Oh, crud.
As soon as Mister Crockett found that sock on the floor of our dormitory, I knew we were in big trouble. Of all the teachers in the Reformatory School for Troubled Young Monsters, Crockett was the oldest, the meanest, and the wrinkliest.
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I could hardly contain my excitement when Papa chose me for this mission. The guild’s lost treasure, a great weapon rumored to lay low scores of men in a single breath, had been found at last. The centuries-long quest was drawing to a close and I, Stasya Vorishka, would be the one to complete it.
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Out on the shoreline, between the waves and the fire, Death made his home. He walked across the silver-gray sand, trailing wisps of memories as they faded slowly from his grasp.
He paused for a moment, turning his eyes to the waves. The water crashed against the rock, swelling forward one moment,
The knock comes late one sunny morning.
My legs tremble as I go to answer the door. Behind it is a stiff, black-coated constable. And behind him are three men with boxes and bags, ready to steal my treasures.
“Adélie Moreau?”
I twist my hands into my skirt, clear my throat, and nod.
Basket snug under her arm, Elmira scanned the forest floor. A long, paper-thin material poked out among the nettles—a discarded dragon skin. It was yellow and curled, probably a few days old. Still, she had to be on the right track.
Where are you? She swiped a hand across her brow.
Lora, my youngest, grinned as she lifted our dinner plates with a wispy sapphire spell. “Clean up time!” Her arms wobbled. “Ooh, heavy.”
“Papa!” Thorn, my oldest, leapt from his chair, his eyes on me. “Make her stop!”
“Lora, you know the rules.” I spoke gently, not wanting to shame my daughter for her newfound abilities.
Oh, I can already taste our sweet victory! Just imagine the rush, the bliss! That old nudnik Santa will give us elves what we desire. No, what we deserve. Finally, we’ll have—
“They’re coming!” Pint Ree slides down the snowbank. His elfin ears are red with adrenaline, small hands shaking.
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