Aislinn never thought she’d see Travis inside her greenhouse again.
Clutching her amethyst necklace, she addressed the prison guard accompanying Travis. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“The prisoner asked to see you before the trial, Dr. Groves,” the guard said.
Sweat beaded against the back of Aislinn’s neck, an unfortunate side
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This is Day 1 of the Heymon Project. The traps are set. My colleagues laugh at me for entertaining the notion that any heymons have managed to sneak into our woods, but we’ll see. According to my research, they are curious and adventurous creatures. I have little doubt they’re
“This should be it.” Kardan glanced at the map. “The mountain tomb of Arned the Curse-bringer. But all I can see is endless desert.”
A scorching wind scattered dust upon cracked earth. His wife squinted against the glare of the setting sun. “Are you sure you got the position right?”
Kardan gestured
Fae-burst had been banned in Anglia for over a decade, but Spencer knew for a fact he’d seen magic onstage tonight.
He peered around the shadowy backstage room. Illusionist dens like this were common in Anglia’s seediest districts, but only sleight of hand was allowed onstage. Fae-burst with its addictive qualities was strictly forbidden.
Jane won’t leave her infernal scarf alone. I’m trying to ignore it, as this trip is stressful enough without starting a fight. After all, we’re going to see the Charmings.
We both hate the royalty: me, because no one keeps them in check, and Jane… Well, I’m still not sure why Jane hates them
In four minutes, I’ll be dead.
I didn’t plan to go down like this, but you know what they say: Make plans or don’t make plans, God hocks a loogie in your face regardless. So here I am, dripping with holy spit in Jackson Square. Here I am with a splitting headache
Judy Suarez lit a cigarette and took a drag. Against her left shoulder she cradled a landline desk phone. In her right hand she clenched a screenplay lacerated with pen slashes.
“Hemingway once said to write drunk and edit sober. Honey, you should be writing sober.”
The screenwriter on the other end of the line said
Sounds of children at recess filled the midday air. Laughter. Creaking swings. The metallic ping of kickballs on asphalt. Lurking in the bushes, a lanky bunny hated every noise.
A cunning white Vienna rabbit, Braxton the Sorcerer had stalked these rotten school grounds for days. Watching. Searching. Binkying. The tiny emerald
Someone had to be in the attic, or else Alice Horton was mad.
Thick fog curled across the grounds, shrouding the vibrant gardens in ghostly white.
Alice’s head pounded from lack of sleep. The footsteps pacing above her room had kept her awake most of the night. She even thought she’d heard
“D’Aulnoy. Jacobs. Now.”
I enter Grimm’s office with my partner, Nero Jacobs, at my side. He shoots me a quizzical glance. I shrug back.
The lieutenant, never one for words, gestures to the chairs opposite his desk, then thuds into his own wingback chair as I sit and cross my legs.
“We’re risking our lives for a princess no one has ever seen,” I grumble, tossing my knife and catching it again. Ruddy light from the fireplace dances down its long, wicked blade.
Most people think it’s odd for a girl to be so fond of weapons.
But if I cared what most people
“If I see one more twig, I might burn this forest down,” Silas growled between clenched teeth.
His back and legs ached from bending and gathering. Even his fingers felt sore. Prying his grip open slowly, he let the small bits of wood tumble back to the earth.
“Oh, Silas, please don’t
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