Thoughts flooded Adalai’s roving mind, most of which were not her own.
He said he’d be here…
…not a telepath. At least the one in the forest stays away…
No one will hear…
Adalai, sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, focused on the last voice
Arvin burst into the cabin. “We’ve got a problem.”
“And what problem would that be?” Salya knitted a few more stitches. “Has the goat escaped again? The cart hit a rut in the road and dumped the milk?”
Another overblown problem to add to the list.
“They’re back, Salya.” He shut and locked the door, and then yanked the curtains over the window. “I saw them in town.”
This city was no place for a werewolf.
The sound of heavy boots thundered behind him, and Clawson Fangsworth dodged down a dark alleyway. His bare, hairy feet squelched in a puddle of questionable substance. There was the filth, for one thing. On all fours, any werewolf worth his silver bullets could outpace a copper on his tail
“I can’t find anything wrong with you, Frank.” The doctor leaned back in his chair to look at his clipboard over his wire-frames.
“Come on, Doc. There’s got to be something. This ain’t normal.” Frank put his head in his hands. “I’m tellin’ you, I’ve been hearing music for three days straight.”
I’m coming Mara. I shoulder my pack, set my walking stick on the path, and start up the slope.
“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.”
I jump, my foot catches on a patch of gravel, and I tumble to the ground. My elbow scrapes against a rock as I land hard on my seat.
“Woah there, it’s not safe to be that kind of clumsy on a mountain.” A short woman sits on the ledge above me, kicking her heels.
Eggs are magic.
They seem simple: shell, white, yolk. Cook them scrambled, fried, boiled.
But separate the parts and find complexity. Whites may be whipped into foam light as cloud and stable as glass. Yolks, yellow as sunshine, whipped with oil and lemon juice turn white, or whipped into a bechamel of butter, flour, milk,
The warlock Jasper Throe first met Caroline Donadeiu when she had only two tattoos.
Tonight, she showed up on his doorstep shabby, with more tattoos than he could count, hands in fists by her sides. Jasper hardly recognized her.
Caroline bit the inside of her cheek. Instead of “hello,” she said, “I’m sorry. May I come in?”
It’s too late to say I’m sorry, Jasper thought, but not without kindness.
The spectacular man could have seduced any lady at the fundraiser, but passing the others without a look, he sauntered up to Nora, a glass of champagne in each long-fingered hand, and, with a devilish grin, planted a soft kiss on her cheek. Nora quivered as heat spread outward from the kiss and set her heart to racing.
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“Is she an angel?” the little boy asked his mother. They sat on the shore playing in the sand. “She looks so… sad.”
High above them, a cliff jutted out over the water like the prow of a ship. At its edge stood a woman, her white dress and dark hair billowing in the wind.
The spaceship rattled again, the second violent vibration in as many minutes. Leaves fell from the trees above, and water from the large koi pond splashed my spacesuit. Vibrant colors danced and pulsed in the transparent dome of the garden’s ceiling, which offered a view of nearby space.
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“In this town, folks know better than to lie.”
I peer at the scruffy, middle-aged man over the top of my sunglasses. “P-pardon?”
“No need to take offense. I was only giving you some friendly advice.”
“And what happens if I lie? The lie police come drag me off?”
The man grimaces and glances over his shoulder, as if expecting someone.
“All first-class tickets are sold out.”
You blink.
The grey-haired cashier shakes her head and purses her lips. “All first-class tickets in that direction are sold out, ma’am.”
“But I wanted to…” You step closer. “I need to…”
The cashier lowers the shutters in your face. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but all tickets are sold out.” She retreats deeper into her booth.
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