The wooden attic floorboards cradled the dying body of Mr. Evergreen.
“What happened, sir?” I set down my candle and wicker basket, palms sweating. Long shadows raced across the floorboards, the light illuminating a knife. The smell of moth balls and old cedar flooded my senses as I knelt. This was not an accident.
Dorian Gray stepped through the shimmering portal, the air of the Nexus Hub a crisp, metallic tang compared to the musty London alley he’d just vacated. Another dimension, another opportunity. His reflection in the polished chrome walls was, as always, flawless. The Nexus, a sprawling interdimensional crossroads, was a haven for those seeking new experiences, new pleasures.
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“As you can tell, the Wild West was a very fascinatin’ place,” the teenaged tour guide said with a fake cowgirl accent and a tone that sounded like she would rather be anywhere else. “And over here, you can see an original journal entry that shows just how superstitious these folks really were.”
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No one in New York paid attention. He liked that.
He also particularly relished this post-rain sunshine.
Taking a deep breath, Dorian started toward the waterfront. This was his ideal way to start the day. It had been for a century.
Immigrating to New York had been his best move.
Count Wilde approached me one day with the deal of a lifetime.
He refused to reveal where he was from or how he got his wealth, but his technology was far more advanced than anything I had ever seen.
All he requested from me was room and board while he did his research.
“Oh, good, I caught up to you! I was afraid I’d be too late. No, please don’t go—that door is always locked anyway, so you can’t get out that way unless you find someone with the right tune key. And there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”
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A bejeweled ukulele strapped over her shoulder, Harmony Starr invites me inside her condo—at least in the sense that it has walls. It still feels like outside, with potted ferns and exotic plants dominating the living room. Chittering rodents and songbirds scurry and flutter among them. Certainly a creative use for her trust fund.
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My attention shot toward the screen when a tall, willowy woman wearing an oversized orange sweater stepped into view of the security cameras. She lowered her ukulele as a magnificent bird soared out of sight. I watched the curious woman unlatch and open a small door camouflaged amongst the eucalyptus. My nose crinkled.
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“Uh, Harmony?”
Harmony dropped her ukulele with a clatter and glanced at the owl perched nearby. “Yes, Aldo?”
“You have an”—he tilted his head, blinking slowly—“an interesting visitor.”
Harmony leapt up. “Ooh, splendid! I adore the interesting ones.” She skipped to the oval door and flung it open. “Well, hello th—what
I hit play on Officer Chase’s bodycam footage. The camera dipped as the officer knelt by a young woman sprawled on the roadside, her legs tangled in the wrecked tandem bicycle. An ambulance siren blared in the distance.
Blood seeped through her long blonde hair. Her t-shirt was the vivid orange of the
“Oh, dear! You simply don’t understand! If you let this girl roam free, the crime spree will never end. I fear for my life.”
Officer Luddick released a long sigh as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. He despised when anthropomorphic creatures came into the precinct. Last week, a wild-haired man-cub with his
Alice was feeling quite irritated with the world when she opened the front door and discovered a folded square of paper addressed to her upon the step. The message it contained looked like gobbledygook until she remembered she’d seen this sort of thing before. Holding it up to the mirror in the hall, she
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