Havok Publishing

The Green Room Files

All’s Fair in Old Japan

“Sorcha, wait!” Mr. Devereaux calls. The pompous old duck is always telling me to wait. “Feudal Japan isn’t safe for foreigners. Europeans could be killed on sight.”
“Did anyone warn my brother of that?” I yell over my shoulder.
I plunge through the dripping trees to the road beyond.

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Miss O’Reilly and the Wild Colonial Boy

“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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Regretfully Yours, Miss O’Reilly

I knew I would regret taking Cuthbert Devereaux’s navigation advice.
When my old nemesis butted into my mission in Nazi Germany, he brought nothing but trouble. It’s entirely his fault we landed in colonial Australia. Now we’re trussed like roasted chickens and propped against a pile of dusty saddlebags in an outlaw camp.

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Miss O’Reilly’s Nemesis

“Homeward bound,” I announce, opening the door of my time machine. The chromium steering lever on the control panel gleams invitingly.
“Blitzkrieg!” Cuthbert the parrot flaps onto my shoulder.
“You can stop shrieking that ridiculous code word now,” I grumble. “The mission is over.”
And what a mission it was. I’m not one

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Miss O’Reilly’s Advice Column

I’m going to enjoy shooting Hernandez.
I smile grimly as I run my feather duster along the balcony rail. My titanium blaster is a satisfying weight in my apron pocket. Too bad it’s set to “stun,” not “kill,” but I suppose one can’t have everything.
Twenty feet below me, the brightly-lit ballroom

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All’s Fair in Love and Poison

If I told you I’d picked up a girl in the French Revolution and brought her to 1930’s Berlin to assassinate Hitler, you wouldn’t believe me… would you?
“It’s time.” Charlotte Corday’s soft whisper brushes my ear as she accepts a champagne flute from my tray. “Colonel Geissler promised to introduce me to

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The Curious Conduct of Miss O’Reilly

“Blitzkrieg!” the parrot screeches, hopping from perch to perch inside the brass cage. “Blitzkrieg! Blitzkrieg!”
“If that parrot continues its intolerable squawking,” I say through clenched teeth, “I shall not be responsible for my actions.”
“Cheer up, Miss O’Reilly.” My fellow time travel agent chuckles. “Hernandez must like you a lot to send

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All’s Fair in Love and Prison Breaks

“I’m Luke Skywalker, and I’m here to rescue you!”
I stride through the doors of my time machine, my compact, titanium blaster swinging jauntily from my hand.
Beneath her white lace cap, the young woman’s eyes widen. She scrambles to her feet. The iron chains clamped to her wrists rattle loudly.

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All’s Fair in Love and Time Travel

“For the last time, Mr. Hernandez,” I enunciate, poking savage holes in my lime-green blotter with my peacock pen, “you cannot land in Wittenberg, Germany on October 31, 1517.”
“Killjoy,” mutters the time traveler on the other end of the phone. “All I wanted to do was have a look around.”

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