“We want to purchase explosives for our children.”
Most people, including most fireworks dealers, would wince at that phrasing. Not Louie Blanchard. For one thing, he knew the Pairish extraterrestrials’ translator devices sometimes missed certain subtleties in the English language. For another,
I’m not robbing the witch. Or so I told myself while creeping toward her cottage by moonlight. What used to be her cottage, really—she’d died the day before. Earlier that evening, I’d heard the chanting of her coven from my home. After the
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Although she’d finished smoothing soil over her seeds and was growing wetter by the second, Gerda was in no hurry to leave her garden. She savored the rain. Too little had fallen the year before, resulting in meager fare ever since.
I’m lucky to have that much. She smiled. Well, I do have a good luck charm.
“Oh, ho! What have we here? Off to war, squirrel?” King Oswain chuckled. The monarch, clad in a purple velvet tunic, elaborately embroidered breeches, and boots of the finest leather, slowed his stallion to a walk on the sunlight-dappled forest path. As he circled
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Someone shrieked. Everyone’s heads, including mine, swung toward the east side of the village. A riderless broom raced westward, skimming almost close enough overhead to part my hair. Something red dripped from its straws.
Some folks in the market square yelped with panic. Others raced for cover. A few flung themselves over their wares.
My brother and I have labored since dawn under the Colorado sky, hacking away at a rock face in a luckless search for silver. Growing numbers of werewolves back East have made that metal more precious than gold. Frustrated, we eat a meager
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“The colonel and I have searched them both.”
I sniffed. “It’s surprising how often people miss essential information when it’s right under their noses—”
“Quinlan!” Colonel Englert intercepted us fifty meters down the corridor, his hair and uniform gray as the station’s walls,
“All this trouble just so you can cuddle some alien vultures.” My sister landed our gyro-flyer near one of my video recorders, which was showing a lone adorb. Usually they were in herds of a dozen or so. “A year with
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Fountains, flowering trees, and the Pond… From the viewport, only those in the know would recognize Ernest and his parents’ destination as a prison.
As the airship docked, his father said, “Chin up, m’dear. It’s not as if the place were common. Rather like a resort, really.”
My lasso sped toward the last bull in the devil’s herd. Its cursed hooves struck sparks as it thundered across the sky.
While my ghost rope started to drop over the brute’s head, I let myself hope that this time I’d catch him, though I’d always failed before. Would’ve held my breath, if I had any.
On my first day as chief fundraiser for Minifauna Tech, a hamster-sized hippo bit the heels off my favorite pumps. Although their genetically engineered animals are small, crafted to fit shrinking natural habitats, they aren’t tame.
That’s why I insisted on teleconferencing the next meeting. Everyone, including
Robbing Karl Schmidt should have been easy. He was staggering drunkenly as I stalked him through the moonlit streets. Instead, he snorted when I demanded his money, pulling out two empty pockets. “Somebody beat you to it, you rogue.” He squinted his blue eyes.
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