David crouched underneath a twisted rock formation at the base of the Temporal Cliffs. His trusty radiance revolver, the oldest of its kind, fit snugly in his hand. Overhead, storm clouds gathered, made darker by the wraiths’ smoky black trails.
Thunder rolled across the sky.
I steadied myself against the dash as the car leaned into the cliff. “You really need to go so fast?”
The rusty green Yugo that Aba had rented shifted down. “Sam, I told you to stay home.” He plunged the accelerator into the floor. “But you say that you’re family now and must come with.
Lora, my youngest, grinned as she lifted our dinner plates with a wispy sapphire spell. “Clean up time!” Her arms wobbled. “Ooh, heavy.”
“Papa!” Thorn, my oldest, leapt from his chair, his eyes on me. “Make her stop!”
“Lora, you know the rules.” I spoke gently, not wanting to shame my daughter for her newfound abilities.
The bounty hunter turned to stone, hatred etched permanently on his features. Veyja stumbled away as the reptilian mass that passed for hair among her kind hissed in satisfaction. Her hand went to her throat and came back stained with a tiny drop of blood drawn by the tip of the hunter’s dagger.
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“Can I help you, young man?”
Her calm voice surprised me. I’d expected her to scream.
Inhaling sharply, I waved my revolver to the right. “Hands on your head. Move in front of the counter. Now!”
The middle-aged cashier ducked to the side, her hands behind her head.
No one notices a lamp. Like, you wouldn’t look at the lamp in your living room and think, “Wow, I really need to watch what I say.”
Of course not. You’d say whatever the heck you wanted.
That’s why I’m currently on Senator Harold Altenstein’s coffee table, listening to him explain
Late again, late again.
Andrew Ashton rushed from his parents’ two story, cookie-cutter home, his Converse sneakers scuffing the sidewalk. He struggled to hoist his backpack on, and the straps slid against the nylon of his bomber jacket. He frowned. Everything was harder since the accident that had taken half his left arm.
I whistled as I stepped from my house. Per usual, I was clad in my nano-suit, a second skin to protect me from harm. You couldn’t see it—to most eyes I looked like any kid walking the street. Well, any kid in a trench coat with goggles perched on his forehead.
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The building shakes, but I don’t look up from my touch display. When you live in a city with supers long enough, you stop paying attention. My coworker Ben isn’t from here though, and it shows by the way he jumps up, looking out the window.
“Ben, this customer’s name is Jezzica, spelled with Zs.”
The dungeon reeked. Two large, scaly Inlans held my arms in painful grips as they escorted me to my brother’s cell. When I tripped, the shapeshifting aliens urged me to move faster. The cell door stood open, and Harren Den, the Inlan king, entered first. The other Inlans dragged me in next.
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It’s not the end of the world.
That’s what her brother would have said if he were here.
But he wasn’t.
Corbin had been called in to work a late shift at the warehouse thirteen miles away. Nora knew because the GPS locator on her phone told her.
If only her phone could pinpoint the monsters, too.
A small bell rang, and Joe looked up from his cup of coffee to the front door of Bob’s Stellar Diner. Darcy and Ben Jackson had stopped at the hostess’s desk, and Lucy smiled before leading them to the same booth they occupied at 7 a.m. every Saturday. As the elderly couple moved past,
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