“Eugenia, I can’t put a princess ballgown on a gorgon,” I squeak through the doorway of the sales office. “It won’t match her hair!”
Our immaculate, skirt-suited manager looks up from her spreadsheets. “Mary, you know our policy.”
“Make every bride feel like a daydream.” I hike up my armload of tulle-engorged plastic garment bags.
Nobody knew precisely where the relics came from nor how those with the money and power to assemble such collections managed to locate them in the first place.
Yet Hal was certain of one thing—at some point he had robbed and swindled them all.
“Let me guess. You see yourself as…
The chain link fence surrounding rows of storage units came into view, and my skin crawled. “Everyone in position?”
“We’re ready, Peter.” Agent Natalia’s voice came through my earpiece.
“Good. Let’s finish this,” I growled. With a nod at my partner, Cassandra Chantos, I crossed the remaining distance, walking up to a man
Pushing Gran’s wheelchair across the threshold into the city’s largest art museum, I was immediately struck by the grandeur of the place. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I wasn’t sure whether Gran’s apartment or this museum held more fascinating paintings, books, and artifacts.
For today’s weekly excursion, the care home
Miss Perdita Danville crept along the moonlit heath, trailing the large, fluffy cow that guided her, its rope clenched in her fist. A bag of dead mice dangled from her belt. With a sword buckled at her waist and her pocket mirror safe in her travelling coat pocket, she was more than suitably armed
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Terrific. They spotted me.
Rebecca floored the accelerator as the car in front of her rounded a corner. Fortunately, most of Athens’ boulevards stretched straight a considerable distance, allowing her to race forward. And at one a.m., she didn’t have to contend with traffic.
Rebecca’s electric-blue Ford Puma jumped to one-hundred-twenty kilometers per hour.
“So, does the bureau know why they sent us here?”
Sal shrugged while cramming fries in his mouth.
Jane waited for him to swallow. “They said a passing centaur reported all the other wilderkind in the area have gone silent.” She slapped his hand before he grabbed another burger. “Aren’t you worried?”
I’ve heard it said that fashion is pain, but for me, it could also be deadly.
As a finalist on Model Designer: Olympus Edition, the hottest fashion competition on TV, I was going to have to navigate that narrow catwalk very carefully.
I frowned at the dressform as I pinned folds
The cave entrance was obsidian black, even in mid-afternoon with the sun shining behind me. A wisp of a cool breeze hit my face. Beckoning. Warning. I ventured forth, drawing my sword from its sheath. A single torch lit the terra path before me as I weaved my way into Athena’s temple,
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Sometimes I stand gazing into my mirror for hours, hoping (fearing?) I’ll fall victim to my own trick and end this pain.
It never works.
I’m now surrounded by mirrors. The sunlit courthouse glitters, every judge and juror holding one. They cannot look at me, so they use the mirrors to glimpse my reflection.
The bounty hunter turned to stone, hatred etched permanently on his features. Veyja stumbled away as the reptilian mass that passed for hair among her kind hissed in satisfaction. Her hand went to her throat and came back stained with a tiny drop of blood drawn by the tip of the hunter’s dagger.
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Hundreds of intermeshed triangles emanated from Veyja’s hands, then locked with those of her fellow shieldmages to form a glowing wall. The first wave of scalewolves crashed into the barrier. Blood and spittle sprayed into the air. Veyja winced at the impact, but the wall held firm.
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