“Behold!”
The ringmaster’s bellow startled me into sitting up so fast I slammed into the calliope I was fixing. With a moan, I squirmed out from under it.
Mr. Trent brandished a contraption that looked like a bicycle snapped in half. “Behold the latest invention, the unicycle! Its rider will save Trent’s Traveling Circus.”
The clown bolted from the trailer across the open space to the big top and hurdled over the velvet rope at the entrance. Serella only had time to sputter “Hey!” before he was inside. Two men wearing FBI vests followed. She unhooked the rope without a word. Damn. Probably another drug dealer.
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Clowns. Dudley Keene dismounted from his sorrel and cursed. He unsheathed his Winchester rifle from its saddle scabbard and pumped the lever. I hate clowns.
His dirt-stained boots plodded through tall grass until he reached an island of wreckage in the sea of prairie. An abandoned carriage stood idle beside a caravan of upturned covered
Ajani perched on the cart’s edge, his feet dangling, as Baba’s animals ate in their cages. The evening shadows stretched as the sun descended and the troupe packed up their tents.
They should be preparing their acts and hoping for a crowd, not leaving after only a few days. And at night?
If anything merits some Courage Cordial, it’s a job interview.
I stare at the glass bottle on my shelf, one of many elixirs I’ve created. A sip won’t hurt—it’ll just give me a little confidence boost. And I’ve made hundreds of successful potions before, which is why in thirty minutes I’ll be walking under the
In the wild, underestimating a wolf could be deadly. And, in Adia’s opinion, slaying a wolf was vastly overrated. Hunters argued that murdering one proved dominance over the beast, but that was not the case. One could luck into a kill, but it took a formidable person to outsmart and control the will of
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Nova trailed after Aster, her current guardian, as he strode down a road in the light of the evening sun.
“My legs are tired,” Nova said in case Aster hadn’t heard her the first seventy times.
Her purple, four-fingered hand reached for his special Darknight cape: a magical fabric that concealed their true nature
I’ve been getting out more ever since the tiger chose not to eat me.
I don’t care for the brittle air poking my eyes, nor do I enjoy the shrieking pigeons that habitually scatter when I—and only I—approach. But today, as I bump against strangers on the public bus, I have a mission: my first date with Harry.
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