Morning light filtered through the jungle mist, bedewing the dirt below and the life teeming within it. Kithoor adjusted her weight in the saddle and pressed her bare, malachite-hued legs against the sides of her mount. Snorting, the scaly, barbed monstrosity turned its crested head. He clawed the mud and bellowed.
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Eamon pressed his back against the stairwell’s cold cement wall, an icy chill brushing between his shoulder blades.
Of all the other spawn-filled dredge pits in Chicago, why did this particular sceallóg have to spirit Lorna away to the fae market?
Reaching inside his leather coat, he fingered the grip of the handgun
“Of course, it’s genuine.” I rub my sweaty palms together in a vain attempt to relieve my tension. “This is a worthy trade.”
This is the one. Surely this old farmer will deliver me from my burden.
“Burden, am I?”
Orc fumes! Not a moment’s peace.
“This isn’t a jolly jaunt for me either, Master.”
Daddy closed me in, just as he had my sister last year. She hadn’t returned.
He wiped his tear away. “I’m praying I see you again.”
I tried to hold the door open. “Don’t make me go!”
He half held my shoulder, half pushed me forward. “You know our way, Brianna.
“Don’t you want to solve the mystery?” My friend Tina had a travel bag thrown over one shoulder.
“No,” I replied, laying my long neck back down and relaxing in my bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Humans are a myth.” We had stories, sure, but they were just that—stories.
“I’m gonna find them.”
I haven’t found the right universe yet.
“What do you think?” Cleo’s feet squish into the swampy ground with each step.
I peer through the tiny tear in the fabric of our universe. On the other side is a different world––blanketed in reddish stone with deep canyons and majestic mountains.
“Well?” Cleo demands.
The monstrous leviathan rises from the depths, swimming across the bay toward Super Awesome City. I grin. At last, the battle where I prove myself has come. Every shortsighted inventor who dismissed my ideas, every teacher who gave me detention for starting food fights in class—they will all look upon me as their savior.
“Load the pineapults!” I bark.
“Where is he?”
“In the well.”
Lark and his wife, Shera, step out of their hovel and into the blistering sun. He places his hand on her shoulder.
“He’ll be safe there,” Lark whispers as they make their way toward the crowd gathering on the outskirts of their village. Just beyond, a massive skyship hovers
Water, warm and smelling of copper, sprinkled across his face like the shower head had clogged up again. Jeff blinked once, twice, and peered up at vibrant blue skies speckled with fluffy white clouds.
Beautiful.
That one was shaped like a bunny.
Splat!
More stale water went up his nose.
The world ended, and yet, life went on.
Gerard set his shoulder against the fallen doorpost, straining to push the wooden beam back into place. Throughout the rest of the desecrated cathedral, the workers who now relied upon his guidance swept away broken glass
The beam from my uncle’s flashlight slid like a ghostly finger over the towering piles of antiques, and I shivered. Evidently, the small museum he’d worked at for years didn’t heat their storage room. A collection of Victorian dolls stared balefully at me, so I snatched up an old, canvas tarp
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I trudged down the aisle, eyes on the ground. I could not face the countrymen who stood on either side of me, judging. Instead, I counted their shoes. Twenty-nine people to witness my fate.
I slowed when my father’s calfskin-covered feet came into view. Beside him, the monstrous boots of my betrothed rested in the snow.
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