“The wax man’s face is melting off!” Another one for the list of weird things that I say with surprising regularity.
“Melting how?” James Prothero asks.
I scowl at him over my shoulder. “How many ways can I mean melting?”
“Are we talking Wicked Witch of the West or Ark of the Covenant?”
“They’re going to cut your funding, Jakk.”
The words slammed into me, but I continued adjusting the excavation bot’s parameters, pretending I hadn’t heard. When I finished, I watched the bot whir into the air, hovering above our floating platform before zipping to the jungle to join its companions at the archaeological site below.
In honor of my first Crossing the Line—or equator, as landlubbers call it—I bought a parrot. Scarlet she was, with a tuft of white atop her head, which I smoothed down, saying, “I’ll call you Poll Whitecap,” thinking of the foam-topped waves.
“Can’t believe you paid so much for…
Peter had thought dying would be an awfully big adventure.
But not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one staring it in the eye.
He couldn’t let Jane face death without him, because he couldn’t face life without her.
He watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing labored and ragged.
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
Waking to a kiss sounds romantic. I mean, I had no problem with the kiss itself—soft lips, tickle of a mustache, faint licorice flavor. But oh my goodness people, what was a man doing in my bedroom?!
I sat bolt upright. My forehead smacked against his.
Ouch.
He staggered back from
The suspect’s face lit up as I entered the interrogation room.
Great.
I offered a glare and settled into the hard metal chair, arranging an impressive stack of files on the table. “I understand you’ve waived your right to legal counsel at this time, Mr. Archer, so I’ll proceed directly to questions
Ever since a wolf devoured Marian’s grandmother, the Sheriff of Nottingham had set a permanent watch on his daughter, which made it rather difficult to sneak into the forest, but not impossible.
Marian huffed and pulled her red riding cloak tighter to ward off the morning chill. Her father hadn’t been particularly fond
Two minutes until the session begins, and the folding chairs circling the gym are already filled. It’s going to be a long night.
Horatio’s seated to my left, which is good. Of all my patients, he tends to be the most level headed. Last session, Frank had that chair, and he packs
Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca in a swimming match on the open sea?”
The festive hall quieted. Unferth, that envious rat, who had remained silent throughout the hero’s introduction, now sought to sow discord. Beowulf’s boasts had convinced King Hrothgar, and everyone else in the mead hall, that he’d be
“So why Tarshish?”
The man’s shoulders tensed, but he continued counting out the coins for my fare. Finally, he shrugged. “I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
“Right.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Tarshish, nice? Either the man was greatly misinformed—no one went to Tarshish on holiday—or…
“Show me how to save Jem!” Sorcha snarls.
“Call off your men first.” I match her glare, ignoring the ropes chafing my wrists. “I want to speak to your leader.”
It’s my fault Sorcha’s brother is hurtling through the time vortex in a wayward time machine, bound for God knows where… and
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