Havok Publishing

Elizabeth Anne Hale

Tripod

I shielded my glasses from the drizzle and speed-walked down the street. Neon lights reflected on the slick concrete. Swirls of pink, green, and blue shuddered as my boots splashed through the puddles. I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered my wallet.
The wealthy could afford to “misplace” money for a

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Mermaid Mob

Joe’s gonna kill me for ditching him.
I surveyed the crowd of humans—attendees of the annual Legendary Law Enforcement Ball—craning my neck to see over their heads as I inhaled another small pastry.
Nah, he wouldn’t kill me. That’d be too much paperwork.
Cool night air swirled through the crowded garden,

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