“Wish it was harder to believe you’re dirty, Ed,” the captain muttered, slapping handcuffs in place. “You made it easy for us.”
The case of laundered bills had given him away, but the insult still rankled.
Ed Johnson stewed on it the whole ride to the precinct, was still stewing as they led him
Behind the shrubs would be a good place. The thought flitted through his mind as Andrei and his date walked through the dimly lit park.
The dinner had gone to plan. His petite partner had ordered the crab cakes as he’d encouraged her to, and he had smothered her with dessert and charm
First thing you have to do with a dead body is bury it.
The year was 1862. Yellowstone country. Where no explorer dared tread alone. Shovel in hand, I dug a grave for Darryl Evans and scooped the dirt over his corpse.
After a short prayer, I said my goodbye while an orange
It’s been weeks—months, maybe—since the world ended. Since my city burned. But the smoke lingers, turning the sky gray-gold.
I catch my breath in the shade of a dune, listening for something beyond the hollow rasp of wind over sand.
Trolls never give up once they have the scent
The sinking sun cast the world in a sparkling, amber glow and my skin prickled with the desire to bask in the radiance. Of their own accord, my fingers escaped the confines of the shadows and found the sun’s rays. A smile spread across my face as the warmth bathed my skin.
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“Coppelia, the next time a cursed mummy comes to life and you think it’s a great chance to pretend to be Indiana Jones, leave me out of it!” Wolfgang Potts puffed as the two siblings darted down a dark museum hallway, lit by their flashlights and red emergency lights.
Coppelia shoved the sign
Simon’s Magickry was not like any traditional magician’s shop. There were no shelves cluttered with ancient books and talismans. There were no candles or crystal balls, nor was the shop musty or dark.
Instead, well-polished white floors reflected the dazzling radiance of the ceiling’s LEDs, filling the shop with brilliance. Plastic-sleeved magic kits
“Tell us how y’all got that shiner, Cap?” Private Cordone’s voice crackled over the comms. I couldn’t remember his full name, Something Something Cordone IV.
I shook my head and closed my thermos, suppressing a sigh. Ever since I’d reported for duty with a black eye, the squad hadn’t been able to
Any ship on approach gets to see the giant ring I call home. It’s a beautiful structure, gleaming brightly against the backdrop of space. Great place to live, but honestly—a circle is the worst when you’re trying to evade someone who wants to space you.
Robyn whipped around a corner. She tried to activate her comms
Kevin had only been in this new, magical land for five minutes, and already something was trying to kill him.
The life of a world-hopping hero must be a short one.
“What is that thing?” Kevin shouted, ducking behind a crumbling, ivy-covered wall. An iron spike embedded in a crack in the wall, quivering
The Taxman’s Cull could lay easy claim to being the seediest bar in the country—and the country itself was no picnic. It was a loose confederation of drug kingpins, mobsters, and pirates—barely stately enough to call itself a nation. Police and military tried in vain to keep order, but the city of Oryphon overwhelmed them.
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If Remy didn’t know any better, she’d say they were heading farther into Lord Filch’s fortress instead of toward its exit.
The dull blare of an alarm punctuated Remy’s footsteps as she followed Kyanne through the servants’ passageway. Only Axel’s hand in hers kept her noodle legs from collapsing. “Kyanne,” Remy gasped, “where exactly are we going?”
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