The sneeze quivered on Munya’s nose, and she opened her mouth. Mami clamped a hand over both, earning her a fistful of spit and snot.
It wasn’t enough.
The men shouted and came toward them.
“Run!” Her mother sprang from the underbrush and shoved Munya in the opposite direction. She stumbled and looked back.
Zai rotated the pendant dangling from his neck, lost in thought. Clanking shackles roused him, and he glanced at Xander, the drug dealer he’d apprehended in the Ketz District. “Maddening, isn’t it?”
A tall man in a red capitol uniform marched past the cell, and Zai shot to his feet. He slammed his huntsman’s
Zai kicked his door shut behind him, tossing the latest stack of wanted posters onto his already overflowing table. A small package caught his eye, and he groaned, flicking aside a note bearing his father’s handwriting. But the box was void of the
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In an elevated section of the amphitheater reserved for foreign dignitaries, Sparksworth, Duke of Spauldingshire, watched the opening ceremonies of Ulteria’s annual Festival of the Roses while struggling to resist the urge to chew his fingernails over the true purpose of his visit.
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“We’ve got a fanfiction character on the loose, Agent Spaulding.” Fledgling hands me a dossier.
I kick my heels onto my desk. “And?”
Fledgling’s eyes widen. “And? Regulations state we need to hunt it down before it tangles the timelines, sir!”
“I know
Spark ran through the brush, desperately trying to escape the T-Rex crashing through the jungle behind him. At last, he broke into a clearing. The amulet that the old gypsy had given him provided the only control he had over the curse
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Leaning against a tree trunk, I nibbled on a roll—all I could afford at the market square—and mulled over how to move on from this village. Cursed to keep journeying lest some disaster befall me—be it a broken bone or housefire
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“Champagne.” The steward places my order on the tray table. “Is there anything else I can get you before takeoff, Miss Windthorn?”
“Chocolate.” I give him a winning, closed-lipped smile.
“Of course, Miss Windthorn.”
Lifting my flute high, I whisper toward the window, “Harrison, may you rot.”
I’m determined to enjoy every possible convenience
Ingrid drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Her eyes followed the steady to and fro of the windshield wipers as they cleared rain from the glass. This would be her final customer before she went home for the night. One more customer, and then she could heat up a frozen pizza and pretend
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“Celia Downing was one gutsy lady,” my partner told our suspect. “The 9-1-1 operator asked who’d attacked her. Her last word was, ‘Kytt.’” Ed pointed at Kytt Windthorn’s childlike face.
Windthorn folded her arms. Her right eye was the same shade of blue as the interrogation room’s walls; her left, the same avocado green
My stomach lurched as I peered farther into the yawning mouth of the volcano. One wrong move and I’d fall to my death. Fortunately, this mountain had been dormant for years. I wouldn’t die from magma—but if the jagged rocks didn’t finish me off, the dragon probably would.
Come on, Kytt. Focus!
“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.
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