Of all the unlikely places Kytt had traveled with Captain Gearlock—Sebastian Malstrum to polite society—Liminalis was the first impossible one.
Since arriving in this realm outside of time, they had passed mud huts, a town of chrome and glass, and a lake of mermaids waving greetings. It was a wondrous place—their
Sebastian adjusted his brass eyepiece and scanned the forest around him for the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
A bright glow led him to a large creature rooting around in the undergrowth.
“Any sign of it, Ghost?”
His navigator, Kytt Windthorn, rose from the tangle. “I can’t believe I dropped the astrolabe!”
Ethel sat with the other wallflowers and resisted the urge to deploy poison gas against the man swaggering toward her. Reginald Ashcroft was about to ask her to dance. Again.
Her father required her to speak with him occasionally on family business, but Ashcroft never failed to humiliate her in the process.
The Ghost, an infamous young thief recently turned pirate, walked through the bustling cacophony of Cog’s Meridian on market day.
Polite society knew her by a different name, but she was far from polite society today. Far from expectations and inopportune fiancés.
Beside her, Captain Gearlock kept watch on their surroundings with his clockwork
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
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
“Ladies and gentlemen, step right up!”
Darcy O’Connor winces as a loud female voice bursts out of the AI interface speaker. Her robotics lab used to be such a peaceful place.
“Only one ticket to learn your future!”
This is the AI’s way of requesting paper. Darcy keeps turning off Carnival Mode, but it always reverts.
By Alicia Peterson When my grandkids ask about the Halloween Blizzard Invasion of ’91, I do what everyone my age does. I lie through my teeth. “Did Great-Grandpa Dave really let you run the flamethrower?” Six-year-old Nora asks the same question every time. I can practically see fire reflected in her hungry eyes as she
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