The mold had grown since Hannah first noticed it in the corner of the warm attic—a fist-sized patch of black silken hairs with a silver shimmer. She sprayed it with bleach, then waddled down the ladder, and returned to tiling the bathroom. The doctor told her to stop working, but she couldn’t rest.
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My scalpel taps against the shapeshifter’s eggshell but doesn’t crack the surface as expected. I press harder, but the blade slides down the surface, piercing the table with a thump.
Could my researchers have grabbed something else instead of the eggs?
No, I’d seen the mother. She swiftly switched from bird, to monkey
Dawson Malone prided himself on many things—his jawline and tracking abilities most of all. His crowning achievement thus far? Discovering the Merfolk after they’d been believed extinct for centuries.
So when he heard of monsters lurking deep in the Tangauryan jungle, he pounced.
“You don’t want to go in there,” the woman
Devon threw up his hands. “We’re lost.”
The national park was vast, and we had strayed off the path. He turned to me as if looking for answers. “Should’ve brought the personal locator beacon like I told you.”
Laura walked up from behind, patted me on the shoulder, and waved her cell phone.
“Well, I’m off. You sure you’ll be all right?” Edwin paused at the door, smoothing his light blue beard. Its color reminded me of cryfina, a multifunctional, potent faerie poison that I’d been itching to get my hands on for ages. You could use it as a hair cream, a deadly weapon, or to
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The scarecrow’s eyes glowed at twilight. Two slits blazed orange as the October sun dipped below a horizon of corn, ten feet tall.
Jester was strapped to a wooden cross. Dressed in a tattered flannel shirt and faded jeans. Straw for tendons and muscles. No heart or organs, much less a brain.
We stole his nose at midnight.
Amidst a sea of snowy mountain pinewood, my cousin Cory and I waded into a clearing where we discovered a man of winter standing upright like a statue. We crept toward the plump figure with caution, hunting rifles ready. Nothing stirred, not even the wind.
My stomach
The clock ticked as Doctor K made a few perfunctory marks on her clipboard, then studied the hollow-eyed patient. “The man in the purple waistcoat… have you seen him again since the accident?”
The patient’s face spasmed at the mention. He shook his head with the short, sharp ferocity of a dog shaking
Twenty-four hours to weave garments fit for a queen. Arachne’s hands shook as a guard shoved her into the small weaving room and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked up at the massive heap of purple chaff just ahead, covering the shadowed floor in front of her.
This is what I get.
Boom!
Christopher jumped up, knocking their board game off the kitchen table. He turned toward his sister, Paisley. “What was that?”
She shrugged. “Sounded like it came from outside.”
Rushing to the window, Christopher tore back the curtain of their third-story apartment and stepped onto the balcony. The view made him gasp.
“Come now. You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. Your colleagues speak most highly of your collection, professor. I’m certain that a few quotes and some pictures would do wonders for my book.”
The old man eyed his visitor. She was pretty and young, with a hint of some exotic heritage
The balmy April evening was fast becoming a frosty spring night. The full moon lay hidden behind a wintry haze. Amelia rubbed her arms vigorously as she hugged herself.
He strode through the mist, with a tip of his hat and gleaming cobalt eyes. The gentleman cut a dashing figure in his classic blue-grey
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