Tallest bridge in the city, midday, alone. My gizzard grumbles. Should I have eaten? Nah, waste of food.
I approach the suspension tower’s edge and glance down, my talons gripping the rim. If I’m not careful, my wings might flare open and ruin my plans. I unclip my messenger bag and retrieve the rope.
“What we have here is a mystery, my friends.” Ten-year-old Ana addressed the row of stuffed animals—and one real girl—that sat at attention.
The girl raised her hand, and Ana swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Mabel?”
“This is just a pretend mystery, right?”
Ana loved her cousin dearly, but, by Shakespeare’s pen,
“Remember, Scarlet, you’re a predator. The alpha. Responsible for protecting your territory.”
I grip my axe tighter and squeeze my eyes shut, fully centered on the low rumble of Rufus’s voice.
“A successful Guardian strikes first. So no threat reaches your pack. Now…” His footsteps pad away. “Strike!”
My eyes fly open, and I hurl
In the wild, underestimating a wolf could be deadly. And, in Adia’s opinion, slaying a wolf was vastly overrated. Hunters argued that murdering one proved dominance over the beast, but that was not the case. One could luck into a kill, but it took a formidable person to outsmart and control the will of
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As Sphinx rolled over, the pain ripped at his side. He whimpered and stretched out one big, clawed Dutch Shepard foot to touch the kennel gate. What good was being in a spacious den if he couldn’t move around? Besides, there were bad guys out there to catch.
“Easy now.” The gentle nurse
I grasp the cold metal handle and swing open the door of Interrogation room B. With its cinder block walls, steel table, and single chair that sit facing the door, it sends a chill down my spine. My bond pet nestles closer to my neck, hiding from the man tied to the chair.
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The docks stink of fish and cigars. During my early days as a Magickal Protections Officer, I used to retch almost daily. Now, the stench merely reminds me of what it hides—the light, sage scent of drakonixes.
I stalk down the creaky wooden planks, gripping Amaka’s leash as she slithers in front of
July 10, 2040
A night like tonight would have shaken me as a rookie cop, but it didn’t seem to faze Aaron Verde. I engaged autopilot on the patrol car. My arms still ached from holding back the teenager. He wanted to kill his father. I couldn’t blame him, given the bruises on his
The white door swung open before I could knock. Agent Hutchinson waved me in. “Welcome to the team, Ms. Dying Words Detective.”
“That’s Detective Fernanda Alves.” I weaved my way through the dozen other agents squeezed into the commandeered construction trailer near the zoo’s entrance. “Let me see the footage.”
I wasn’t talking
The shoebox rattles. A crystalline scratching sound tinkles inside the worn cardboard. I clutch it in my aching, bandaged fingers as I stand trembling in the yard of the old livery stable at the edge of the village.
It’s my last option.
If he can’t help me, no one can.
One step at a time
Waves sloshed below the old man as he sat at the pier’s edge, waiting. A face emerged from the sea, her hair as white as the foam on the wave crests.
“It is good to see you, Mr. Crispin. You have the boot?”
Puzzled as he always was during these exchanges, Crispin held it out.
How long have I slept? No matter the amount, it’s never enough.
I rise from my damp bench, searching the edge of the bridge ahead of me.
Why are the nights always so cold when they come here?
Sure enough, there stands a thin, forlorn girl in a windbreaker—useless in this frigid air.
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