Despite the engineers’ best efforts, time drones have a loud buzz. So when Hanover’s time drone popped in early one sunny Cretaceous morning, it was noticed immediately.
Not by the dinosaurs the drone’s owners sought, who were not in the area, nor the flies swarming a chunk of rotting fruit on a tree branch
Cyrus Montez knelt by the large print in the mud and surveyed the surrounding jungle. “We’re close.”
The native guide, hoisting a spear and, wearing nothing but a loin cloth, nodded and waved his arm, motioning for Montez to follow.
“The Phoberomys?” Julie Szubanski shouldered her pack and prepared her DSLR camera.
The portal closed behind me with a whumph and a smell like rotten eggs. My eyes watered as I tried not to gag on the stench.
The clicks, buzzes, and cries of a vibrant emerald jungle enveloped me, followed swiftly by a sodden blanket of humidity. My dark human hair and ridiculous human robes
“Do you remember me mentioning how much I hate small spaces?”
Sic sighed. “It’s not like you can see how small it is.”
I blinked. Or at least I think I blinked. The cave was so dark, it was hard to tell.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Sic added.
“No. That’s not
Lykaina slid the box across the desk with a gentle smile. “A gift from the marshes of Hecate.”
Mr. Collins opened the lid and inhaled deeply. His eyes drifted closed. “Fresh cranberries. Marvelous.”
“Perhaps not the bounty one would receive from Demeter…” Lyka spread her hands. “But we share what is ours.”
I lost it!
The one thing. The one responsibility I had in my care. And I lost it.
I raced down the corridor. My diamond-sharp claws dug into the floor, and my smooth, taut wings accelerated me forward. Suddenly, my shoulder slammed into a polished iron door. It swung back on its hinges
The ball of light splits the forest in two, bouncing heat and ash off the canopy all the way down into the damp undergrowth. Where bits of debris alight on a rare dry patch, the underlying fungal layer, with sodden indifference, snuffs them out in a puff of smoke. A wide flat piece,
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“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
We’re a ragtag team, if ever I’ve seen one. Gathered around Major’s battered table in the dimly lit bunker, there’s no less than five kinds of crazy.
Jones, the intellectual, dissecting a cicada under a magnifying glass.
Flint, the muscle; he’s too big for his shirt, probably on purpose.
Qora, the gadgets girl.
By Hailey Huntington They called me the Guardian of the Last Phoenix. In truth, I was the caretaker of the last phoenix, meaning that I basically just cleaned up after Ignis’s messes. But I loved the magical old bird, even if she had a nasty temper. Looking after phoenixes was in my blood. I think
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Dr. Byron Stoneburner made his camp on the side of the Artic mountain. He nibbled what jerky remained in his pack and warmed his frostbitten nose next to the fire, calculating his progress by the aged map in his possession. The yellowing pages had turned brittle in the frosty air, but he had memorized
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Being inconspicuous is difficult with a dragon in your pocket.
The text came while I was studying for biology, but when Kitty McDowell sends a cryptic message asking for help, am I going to say no? Of course not.
I stare up at Sterling Hall. Most of its windows are still lit,
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