Ethel limped through the park and sat at her usual table, the chess pieces already arranged on the gray and black terrazzo squares. She handed a footlong drenched in mustard to her informant, with a crisp one hundred tucked against the tin foil, and moved pawn to e4.
“Grazie, la Piccolina,” Sam said,
The operational excellence awards leer at me as I creep through the executive suite lobby, a satchel slung over one shoulder of my gray business suit. I pause before a door with the words “Robert Burgle, Undermine Global CEO” before pushing my way inside.
Burgle, a powerfully built man, slouches in an ergonomic swivel
I pop in an earbud and settle into my rideshare from O’Hare. The latest episode of my favorite podcast, Good Grieves, just dropped. I press play. “Ethel Grieves keeps a low profile compared to her more flamboyant siblings. She’s known for taking legitimate jobs, always under her real name, and resigning before she’s charged
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I stormed through mahogany doors into our mansion’s library. Due to my limp, my sensible shoes’ wooden heels hammered an uneven beat on the hardwood floor. My older siblings flinched, looked up from their phones, and winced a bit as I scanned their faces. When we were kids, Milton used to call my current
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“Mama?” a scared, little voice called.
Phezznibbet Maplebark’s ears twitched, his paw closing around the bottom knife in his bandolier. He poked his head around the slimy dumpster that hid him. At the front of the alleyway stood a figure not much smaller than himself. It didn’t appear threatening, so he took a few
If newspaper headlines could scream, this screech would be heard on my home planet.
Cash Reward for Bronx Kids Who Attempted to Kill Squirrel.
What monsters would reward someone for attacking helpless creatures? Earth-Humans, apparently. No surprise. Their cruelty is known throughout the universe.
I was here to stop it. I had to act
Phezz patrolled the forest’s edge, searching for ingredients. Er… trespassers. A welcome respite from the training grounds, where he spent endless hours instructing kits and running melee drills. After Acon—the runt of the litter—had nearly skewered him today, he decided to end the session early.
Phezz crouched low against the forest floor
“I’m serious; I don’t need a bodyguard.” Moxly scowled, arms crossed. He grunted when Brix swung him around to face the entryway mirror.
“Do you see that face?”
Moxly pulled out of Brix’s grasp and made a point of adjusting his tunic. “I’ve seen it many times, dear brother. It’s mine.”
“Yes. It’s yours.”
Zaivar Witz studied the mist dealer behind the counter, wondering if the wizened man could actually help him find a new disguise. Harvesting and selling mist from the kingdom’s shrouded mountains required an unmatched madness. But Zai never cared for convention—if it helped him track down his warrants, why question it?
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My photograph hung on the bar’s wall.
“WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE”
“$100,000”
Well, at least it didn’t only say dead. And a reasonable amount of money, too. What had I done this time?
Maybe it was the general stores I’d robbed or the people I’d blackmailed for information. With a shrug, I glanced again
I punched the Mustang into gear, tires squealing down the unlit county highway.
The sudden acceleration pressed the man beside me back in his seat. He made no move to grab the door handle for support. Probably because I’d zip-tied his wrists behind his back.
“I thought your orders specified not to harm me.”
Zai rotated the pendant dangling from his neck, lost in thought. Clanking shackles roused him, and he glanced at Xander, the drug dealer he’d apprehended in the Ketz District. “Maddening, isn’t it?”
A tall man in a red capitol uniform marched past the cell, and Zai shot to his feet. He slammed his huntsman’s
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