Leave the dead to their derby, and they’ll leave the living to theirs. The ghosts don’t hurt anyone; they come, celebrate, and leave at midnight once a year. Horse races mean a lot to folks around here.
That’s what the old hillbilly had said as he pumped Reynolds’ gas. But leaving ghosts alone…
Flames swept across the living room as the young dragon wailed. One fireball incinerated a garland while another illuminated the Christmas tree.
Coppelia Potts stared with mouth agape. She’d have to update her résumé once again: full-time Nightmare Hunter, part-time babysitter, and elder sister to a temperamental dragon.
Coppelia grabbed a blanket
“Ma’am, we have an issue.” My mousy assistant Anne cleared her throat, approaching my leather chair.
I waved my pen at her before I continued counting sums. “Go on, then.”
“It’s…” Anne gulped. “Scrooge.”
I peered over the edge of my pince-nez glasses. “What about Scrooge? He’s sufficiently corrupted.” I tapped his name
“Who does she think she is? The daughter of a villain, trying to be a hero?”
A punch hit me square on the cheek, smacking my head against the road. Fingers tightened around my throat, and I struggled to breathe—an all-too-familiar feeling.
Decay’s superpowers activated. I gasped as my fingertips began to shrivel
Being one of the Seven Deadly Sins wasn’t supposed to be easy, but Pride thought it would be a heck of a lot simpler than this.
It started when his sister, Envy, bet that she could find one person he couldn’t taint. Seemed like a straightforward win, considering most humans were corruptible beasts.
Until Cresella.
Rumors said she went mad for beauty.
And while Briar’s search had begun with a desperate desire to keep the fairy-given beauty… it had evolved into so much more.
She hadn’t gone mad for beauty.
She’d transcended it.
A red horizon lit the battlefield and illuminated the corpses of those who had tried to
Haddie always loved summer. No sums, no figures, just sun rays and ocean waves.
But it seemed some people couldn’t relax, even if their lives depended on it.
A fifty-foot watery monster stood in front of her at the beach. Inside its liquid chest sat a boy, the root of all her problems—
There were many things eight-year-old Haddie Underwood did not like—sitting still, doing her spellcaster homework, dogs—but she hated being lied to most of all.
Haddie squeezed her sister’s hand and pointed in utter betrayal at the animal inside the deep pit that functioned as a zoo exhibit. “Where is the giant panda?”
“Of all the things we could do on your first trip as a Nightmare Hunter, you pick this.” Coppelia Potts carefully guided her submarine through the dark waters. Huge floodlights illuminated murky depths while her brother, Wolfgang, scanned the monitors for any signs of life.
Seth, their Nightmare Hunter trainee, leaned back
“Haddie Underwood, you said you knew how to fly this thing?!” Percival Holmes shrieked over the rush of the wind.
“Funny story—I lied!”
Haddie clutched the neck of the griffin as it plummeted through the sky toward the infamous Harpy Mountain. The bird tumbled, its claws skittering across the rocky terrain,
“What we have here is a mystery, my friends.” Ten-year-old Ana addressed the row of stuffed animals—and one real girl—that sat at attention.
The girl raised her hand, and Ana swallowed a sigh. “Yes, Mabel?”
“This is just a pretend mystery, right?”
Ana loved her cousin dearly, but, by Shakespeare’s pen,
Coppelia Potts, Nightmare Hunter, watched her brother Wolfgang pick up a tiny stone bird. He shuddered as he offered it to her.
“You know that scene in Narnia where the White Witch turns the animals to statues?” He swallowed as Coppelia turned the unfortunate bluebird around in her hands. “That’s what I feel
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