I know the city has turned its back on me, but it’s still devastating when I see my face on a billboard with the words, “Why are we trusting the Blue Bullet with our lives?”
Bitterness stabs my heart as I fly by. The cloud of dust below leads me to my destination: a collapsed building.
What would they do if I stopped showing up?
As old Stanley Gibson stood in the hall, buttoning his overcoat, the phone rang. A scowl flashed across his features. He hated any interruption to his routine. He thought of letting it ring and setting off for his post-lunch walk anyway, but his deep-seated sense of correctness overrode the temptation.
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When fleeing the country, was it normal to feel like a rat stuck on a skinny branch above a pack of snarling wolves?
Even though tonight I would leave forever, I swept dust off the floors, checked for cobwebs in the spick-and-span nooks and corners, and comforted myself that I would no longer face this tangle of shelves, gadgets, and shadows every evening.
It’s the same every night.
I wake up in a house not my own, in a dark bedroom, and through a doorway, I hear the sound of someone screaming.
Then there’s always silence.
The first couple of nights I chalked it up to a recurring nightmare of some kind, especially because once I closed my eyes,
“Here’s your pay, kid.” The foreman of the road crew dropped a few crumpled bills into Karl’s hand. “Now scram.”
“Come on, man.” Karl moaned. “What does it even matter? I’m sixteen. So what? I can scoop up dead raccoons better than anybody else on your crew.”
“Galastar General, we have limited time to—”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
“General, you’re the only one who—”
“I know!”
“General—”
“Five damn minutes if you please!” General Jones swung into his cabin and slammed the door button. The white carbon fiber hatch hissed closed, shutting out the gray-clad soldiers and their white noise.
This, this so not my job. This what Sam do, and I maybe help a little. I drive the car.
Still, there’s no one else. I need my Samara. And if I don’t find her, no one will.
I back up. Explain. We were supposed to meet at airport for our honeymoon. Sam said she had some last-minute details to fix.
Three of the dragon’s heads lunged, spewing noxious fire. Niccolò bellowed, charged between columns of flame, and drove at the beast with his axe. His blows glanced off the scales, then he staggered against the flags of the old church as four more heads lurched around the corner.
Where was Giovanni?
“You’re looking as tempting as ever, love.”
Arianna’s pistol was out and trained on the familiar voice before her head swung around. “Where’s Dix?”
“Your first mate? Wishing he’d been paying more attention.” Elliot eased against the doorjamb, his towering frame backlit by the flickering torch.
She scowled.
Magic samurai armor made everything cooler.
Grocery shopping became an epic battle between the forces of good and asparagus.
Restaurant dining became a chance to eavesdrop on fans of San Francisco’s samurai superheroes.
Going to school was… going to school. Not even armor could change that.
By Cadi Murphy Eamon tightened his jaw, pressing the tips of his fangs against his bottom lip. His specs slipped down the bridge of his nose. He hurriedly shoved them back so he could watch the werewolf boy swaggering toward him between the dusty library bookshelves. This was the leader of the largest student gang,
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Intoxicating notes floated through the air as I quietly opened the door. I took a deep breath and entered.
My former detective partner had her back to me and clearly hadn’t heard me enter. I hesitated before clearing my throat to announce my presence.
She stopped and set the violin down. “Isaiah Glisent.”
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