“It’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”
My brother, the perpetual optimist. “You’re not the one puking over the side. Thanks to me, even the dragon probably wants this flight to be over.”
Tad’s chuckle was soft, but I could still hear it over the constant rush of air and the beat of the massive wings.
I creep down the ancient stone hallway, barely containing my anticipation. Months of tracking down clues, solving riddles and dodging hamster attacks are finally bearing fruit. Beyond the door at the end of the hallway lies the Donut of Time, last breakfast artifact I must recover before I can challenge the Hamsters of Doom and stop them from destroying humanity.
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Je’hir blinked and blinked again, tears leaking out the sides of his eyes, past the tops of his ears, down the sides of his head. Sky, turquoise with wispy fluffs of pink clouds filled his vision. Directly above him, however, a wavering black dot broke the serene beauty.
“No, no, no,” he moaned, punching the ground beneath his fists and wishing the tangible evidence of his father’s treachery would just disappear.
If I walked away from this mission having learned only one thing, it would be that millennia of shifting sand dunes were no match for a stubbornly brilliant paranormal archivist. Unfortunately, the odds of me actually walking away were decreasing every second.
“Hey, Miriam, I could use some help over here!” I shouted as I deflected an obsidian sickle.
“This evening has to be perfect.” Cecilia straightened Saegan’s bow tie with shaking hands. “We must impress the Minderas so they’ll invest in Master Gador’s business.” And she needed to impress Mastor Gador with her first dinner as his new housekeeper.
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The tiny collar weighed heavy in my hand. I’d always know Victor was special, the kind of kitten who had magic hidden deep inside. Despite his belief that he could fly, he had taken one too many risks.
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The booming of the tribunal’s drums rivals even that of the cannons firing outside the city walls. That the High Council would go to the trouble of putting on a public trial even while besieged testifies to their displeasure. I don’t think Azer, the judge, has cracked a smile since the war started, but today his face is grim as death.
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“You must have set it wrong.”
Vinny’s voice boomed, making my ears ring. Who had set what wrong? Where was I? More importantly, did they know I’d been informing on them for the last six months?
“There’s nothing to set!” Sal said. A thunderous thud of footfalls passed me. “See? Just a big red start button to turn it on.”
This close to a master bloodfencer, the crude piece of metal in my earlobe burned like hell. I itched to take it out, but it was all that guaranteed my sanity.
Sweat slicked the grip of my hydropistol as I watched Lord Dreadsower, the bloodsucking, self-proclaimed deity of this town, swoop into the alleyway to meet my partner.
My throat is so dry. My tongue so swollen. All I can think of is the great thirst within me. The need to find the one thing which will satisfy my soul—or, what was once my soul before it was stolen from me.
Blood. I need blood. And I need it now.
The seventh time I’m reborn, I have long purple hair and a dragon tattoo wrapped around my left hand. Or maybe it’s a lizard. Personally, I prefer dragons. They spit fire, but at least they’re straightforward about it. Unlike sneaky lizards with that tongue thing. I’m not a squeamish girl, but ech.
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I sidled closer to the battle trophy, my palm itching to finally hold the rune-etched hilt.
The dead warrior’s blade had been there as long as I could remember—stabbed into the center of the cave’s floor. Every day I’d gaze at it, and the warrior’s name would dance in my thoughts to a tune only I seemed to hear.
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