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
In the wild, underestimating a wolf could be deadly. And, in Adia’s opinion, slaying a wolf was vastly overrated. Hunters argued that murdering one proved dominance over the beast, but that was not the case. One could luck into a kill, but it took a formidable person to outsmart and control the will of
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“Coppelia Potts, full-time Nightmare Hunter and part-time… babysitter.” Coppelia sighed as she watched the snow fall outside. “I’ve thwarted mummies and captured magical menaces. I think I’m a little bit overqualified to babysit a toddler.”
Wolfgang Potts shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m glad we aren’t in mortal danger for once.
Ah, Día de los Muertos. A day we set aside to honor our family members. To spend time with the living. To remember our dead.
Except they’re kind of hard to forget when their skeletons are staring at you from across the table.
“Well, Finny! Have you decided to follow in your pop’s footsteps
We have eyes on the fish. Repeat, we have eyes on the fish.” Haddie Underwood whispered into her wand. Her dark sunglasses tempered the fierce sun, and—mercy—she was sweating something awful underneath her black trench coat.
But today she was a spy and had to dress the part.
“Firstly,
Ever since his first death day—the day he’d seen his parents slaughtered—Vel had possessed a fascination with mortality. As a result of what he’d witnessed, he had two options: either go absolutely bonkers from the atrocities he’d seen that day or view each death as a celebration. Infuse some humor to the occasion,
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Nova trailed after Aster, her current guardian, as he strode down a road in the light of the evening sun.
“My legs are tired,” Nova said in case Aster hadn’t heard her the first seventy times.
Her purple, four-fingered hand reached for his special Darknight cape: a magical fabric that concealed their true nature
“Coppelia, the next time a cursed mummy comes to life and you think it’s a great chance to pretend to be Indiana Jones, leave me out of it!” Wolfgang Potts puffed as the two siblings darted down a dark museum hallway, lit by their flashlights and red emergency lights.
Coppelia shoved the sign
The biggest risk of being a superhero was ending up a cliché.
Caspian had always mocked the stereotypical hero speeches he’d seen on the news, but now, facing his own villainous showdown in a closed pawn shop at midnight, well… it seemed like the only things he could spout were tired old
The troops whispered the name amongst themselves: the legend, the lore.
The Phoenix.
A creature of orange, red, and yellow plumage, the bird on fire, the power that never died.
They said that it moved from one world to the next. Once the power enshrouded in its earthly vessel had evaporated in one
“Coppelia Potts, Nightmare Hunter.” Coppelia extended her business card, which proudly proclaimed her name and profession. “You called about a little… pumpkin infestation?”
The farmer’s daughter examined the card and nodded.
“I’m Abby. Where’s your brother? Shouldn’t he be here?”
“Wolfgang’s sick, so I’m going solo today.” Coppelia pulled her bright orange hair
Nova curled her legs up and tucked her toes underneath her nightgown. Damp tears rolled down her face as she sat on her bed in the dark. The curtains were drawn, and the mirror was covered up, as always, but even that couldn’t blot out the reminder of her differentness, especially after today’s
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