Martin awoke to a few unexpected discoveries, the first of which was finding himself suspended upside down from a tree branch. Considering his last memory was losing his footing and tumbling down a sharp embankment, this predicament came as a relief. After all, he wasn’t dead or grievously injured. So that was a plus.
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“Hades, why was my mother even in New Orleans?” Persephone’s gentle voice tickled Hades’ ear as she threaded her arm through his.
Crowds upon crowds pulsed near them, swaying to jazz music. The sweet aroma of beignets swirled through the air, only adding to the nausea swelling in Hades’ stomach. His uneasiness grew…
“Jimena has to have run through here,” Gabriel grumbled to himself, pulling his sarape tighter. Waving his lantern, he stomped his way through the evergreen forest of Sierra de San Pedro Mártir. The light cast shadows blacker than night.
He huffed and shoved the branches out of his way, the pine smell suffocating him.
Leave the dead to their derby, and they’ll leave the living to theirs. The ghosts don’t hurt anyone; they come, celebrate, and leave at midnight once a year. Horse races mean a lot to folks around here.
That’s what the old hillbilly had said as he pumped Reynolds’ gas. But leaving ghosts alone…
“Wake up!” Mama seems scared as she shakes my shoulder. I hear someone yelling in the kitchen. Mama doesn’t like it when people yell.
“Mama? What’s going on? Why are you scared?”
“Hush, Zephyr. I need you to listen to me closely, okay?” Mama opens the window next to my bed. “I need you
Dr. Miranda eyed the teenager perched before her. Tilli was a wisp of a girl with hot pink hair and delicate, almost pixie-like features. A lumpy, burlap sack lay by her feet. Though she was curious about the bag’s contents, Dr. Miranda decided to wait for Tilli to explain.
“So, what brought you in today…
Gravity is merciless. My brittle-boned body—courtesy of decades in the Space Force—hurtled toward what could be a disastrous collision with the floor.
But I was wearing a Belt. Once its sensors registered my loss of balance, its anti-grav went into action, halting my descent and raising me gently until I was again upright.
It isn’t positively raining, but there is a mist in the air that seeps through one’s clothes. A young boy stands beneath a lamppost, staring across the cobbled street. One trouser knee is patched, and the other needs patching. He shrugs his shoulders and buries his cold hands deeper into his pockets.
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Most people are skeptical when they hear a sentient cake has a PI’s license, but get your picture in the paper enough, and you begin to gain credibility with a capital C. That, and the delicious smell of my chocolate ganache, is how Agatha Vanderbruin Von Marnestein found her way to my office.
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Saturday night in the World Capital Hospital’s Emergency Department is often full of surprises. Maybe the biggest came when Earth’s President, Derek Percy, was wheeled in strapped to a gurney after trying to claw his own face off. As the chief resident of the Emergency Department, it fell to me to investigate.
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The rats are disappearing.
Hart Street had the biggest infestation in London. We knew that before we moved in—it’s why the house came at such a low price. But we needed somewhere to lay low, so I assured the Professor we could deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse.
Still, my skin still crawled
Maximillion’s manners were atrocious. Clarice’s tail curled as she watched drool trail from the dog’s jowls.
“Is my Maxie hungry?” their owner Katy cooed.
He shifted from paw to paw, pressing even closer to Katy’s legs as she stirred the pot on the stove. If she tripped, both she and the stew would likely crash to the floor.
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