I had no problem leaving Spark Spaulding stuck in Albanue’s prison sewers. He was responsible for this mess, so I figured Spark could rely on advice he’d given before: “The worst prison is the one in your head.”
I didn’t count on his
The harmonic hall doors slammed and Spark hurtled out and over the low balustrade to the pavement, rolling to a stop and barely catching himself from going over the edge into the clouds below the floating city of Sonata. It was a two-mile drop
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Sixteen floors up the sheer glass face of Pitfall Industries’ main tower, I cling to Sticky Kitten’s back as she climbs. Suction fluid seeps through the sapphire Spandex of her skin-tight super suit, adhering me to her and her forearms and shins to the building. My purple cape snaps in the wind against
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He came in every day for almost a week, at ten to four in the afternoon, stood in line for a coffee—medium, hazelnut syrup, almond milk—then stayed just long enough to take a sip or two. Gave his name as Sam. Smiled at me each visit.
I melted the first time
Aether’s Edge floated demurely across the sky, but inside the dirigible manor’s private study, Kytt Windthorn’s language was anything but ladylike.
“Thomas Edison’s trousers!” Kytt swiped a curl out of her face and pressed her ear to the cold metal door of an Iron Guardian X99. They were finicky under the best circumstances
“Kytt! Wake up!”
A sharp slap of pain explodes across my cheek. My eyes shoot open, and I bolt into a sitting position.
“What happened?” I massage a throbbing spot on the back of my head. “My glasses! Where are my glasses?” Panic sets in; I’m as good as dead without my glasses.
Joe Enza didn’t care where the giant hole had come from. He just wanted his parking spot back.
After twelve years of devoted service, he was finally MegaTech Temporal Conglomerate’s Employee of the Month. The distinction came with a meaningless certificate, a mention in the employee newsletter no one read, and a front row
Chasing Joe Enza was like trying to catch smoke. Just when I thought I had him, he’d slip through my fingers, leaping into another timeline—another reality. It was maddening.
But this time, he was still in sight—at least for now.
I tucked a long strand of my auburn hair behind my ear
It was Christmas Day, which may have been more obvious if the world hadn’t ended seven years ago.
I missed the holiday season, when people still debated over whether decorations should go up before or after Thanksgiving. Now, people discussed how to avoid the disease slowly consuming all of humanity.
“Rapunzel,” Midas said, shifting
“Merry Christmas, Eliza.”
My husband Reynolds ruffled my dark hair, waking me. I came to on the living room couch with a gasp and wiped my mouth. My fingers passed over the pillow lines on my face.
It was nice to have a body again, after being dead for so long.
The thought
A chill rattles my body, more than warranted by the crisp December air. There’s a widget heist in progress, I know it. I have an instinct for these things.
That and the twenty-foot section of chain-link fence flattened under tire tracks.
Giselle Gizmoskowicz, the Gizmo Wizard of Scare City, has long sought a gizmo-nopoly
The zombies had the stronghold surrounded. But what else was new?
Kicking my feet up on my desk, I clicked on my handheld recorder. “This is Commander Corinthia II—that’s ‘Cori’ to my friends, ‘Commander’ to the rest of you—with an update on our situation. It’s day…” I glanced at the walls of my concrete room. The hordes of tally marks looked like the desperate clawing of the undead. “…day unknown of The Z Siege. The Oasis is holding up fairly well.” What could zombies do to a concrete fortress in the middle of a desert? Arm themselves with cactus battering rams and charge?
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