There were no bats. So weird. Most vampires enjoyed playing into the stereotypes. Throughout her volunteering as a bloodlender, Emily had seen shutters painted blood red, fang-shaped windows, and even encountered guard bats that pooped on her head.
Read it now
A sizzling screech reverberated through the Mud Runner as the laser gouged a line across my hull.
“I never expected to be grateful I didn’t repaint her.” Or so thrilled I hadn’t had the merits for it. I gritted my teeth. “Earl! Why are…”
My co-pilot was not in his seat. I muttered a curse against all androids and rolled the spaceship to one side, avoiding another blast.
“May I ask a deeply personal question?”
“Again?” I turned to the dwarf, taking care to roll my eyes dramatically enough for him to notice from his position below.
“It’s been five minutes since my last one.”
“Not long enough.”
“Oh.”
He was quiet for a whole sixty seconds while I rigged my net in the trees. Knots: secure. Branches: sturdy. It would work.
“Today is going to be a good day. I can feel it.” Roe strapped on his belt and gave his sword, Mike, a pat.
“Ow.” Mike huffed. “I told you. No touchy-touchy.”
“Somebody’s grumpy today.” Roe pulled on his boots and stretched. Nothing was going to sully his fine mood, not even his sort-of-faithful sword he’d stolen…
“This is completely your fault.” Captain Quinn paced up and down the cramped dungeon cell, glowering at his android co-pilot.
INFO’s internal servos whirred as she tilted her head. “I do not see my error. I merely informed the men that the sorceress they worship is most likely not a deity, but—”
“Stop messing with your hair, girl. You look acceptable.” Smorloc’s shout echoed from the potions chamber.
I rolled my eyes at my workroom mirror. He’d yet to even see me this morning.
The glass surface rippled and the mirror’s oracle emerged from its murky depths. “Lookin’ good,” he drawled. “Old Smores got summoned to the palace, huh? I can’t believe they keep calling back the one wizard who can’t even do magic.”
A grating roar shook the earth as if the apocalypse had just dropped a mixtape featuring cat yowls and broken dreams.
The dust bunnies bounced away in terror, desperately searching for hard-to-reach corners to hide from the Terror Which Is the Vacuum Cleaner. Spencer shivered in fear. A massive pair of slippered feet trudged slowly across the carpet, pushing the tool of destruction closer and closer toward the bed.
You check your phone. “I have time to read Havok. Always love Wacky Wednesday!”
It’s a dark and stormy afternoon in more ways than one.
“Awkward…” mutters Jed, the new kid at school.
I fumble my keys to let the four of us into the house. “I had no idea a horror movie would end up making us the third wheel.”
The Piggly Wiggly smells like baking chicken as I hustle in past a leaning stack of boxed soda. The crumpled piece of notebook paper in my hand is moist with the sweat from my palm.
Three things. I can get three things. Surely I can manage that.
This time, I’ll get it right. This time, Mina will get what she sent me for.
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My undead grandmother is my conscience.
By “undead” I don’t mean a decrepit, old woman who looks like she shouldn’t still be sucking wind. I mean a decrepit, old woman who died of a heart attack three months ago yet still manages to ruin my life.
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I love you. –Jack
I sat on the roof of the barn, reading the note over again. I didn’t know a Jack.
I’d already searched the school, asking every unknown boy if his name was Jack—yes, I’m that type of person.
No Jacks went to my school.
Crash!
Lase sighed. She hated doing this, especially with her brother.
“Yuck!” More banging.
“Tim, quiet! We’ll get caught,” she hissed.
“What do you even take from an apota…apot-a-carry?”
“Apothecary, you dolt. We’re here for healing ointments.”
“Is this it?” He emerged, reeking of a floral scent with swamp water highlights.
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