“The wax man’s face is melting off!” Another one for the list of weird things that I say with surprising regularity.
“Melting how?” James Prothero asks.
I scowl at him over my shoulder. “How many ways can I mean melting?”
“Are we talking Wicked Witch of the West or Ark of the Covenant?”
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca in a swimming match on the open sea?”
The festive hall quieted. Unferth, that envious rat, who had remained silent throughout the hero’s introduction, now sought to sow discord. Beowulf’s boasts had convinced King Hrothgar, and everyone else in the mead hall, that he’d be
Save my son.
The plea echoed in Marek’s head, as dark and haunting as the forest through which he stumbled. His breathing labored—as did that of the unconscious child cradled in his arms.
“Come on, David, stay with me,” he begged.
Something rustled in the bushes ahead. Marek halted and squinted into
Theodore Roosevelt clicked the hammers back on his double-barreled shotgun. The mustache atop his upper lip crinkled in a defiant sneer. “Steady, Bill. The hunt’s underway, and we’re the hunted.”
A low moan echoed amongst the ominous hilltops, climbing into an ear-wrenching wail that rattled my bones. I lifted my rifle and
Jane poked at the arrangement of boulders that formed an archway in the middle of the room.
“This is the portal?” She lifted her glasses and peered at one of the boulders. “It doesn’t seem like it should stay upright, and yet it appears solid.”
“Don’t try to understand Xaether magic,”
Dear Kenny,
I know I said I wouldn’t go back, but I had to, all right? I’m alive, obviously, and I know why you told me to stay away. But I couldn’t—so let’s leave it at that and move on.
I think things were a little different for me. When we were…
His meticulously planned caper at Footsie Rolls Novelty Sock Emporium was off to a poor start. Crouched behind a sneaker deodorant display, Achilles and two other sock gremlins stared down the aisle to where a pair of guards waved flashlights back and forth.
Achilles smacked Shin-Splint across the back of his head.
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
Bramble Dinkenspry was very good at fixing things. In fact, her entire family was good at it. But when you’re a brownie, you expect nothing less.
“Bram! It’s time!”
Bramble nearly dropped the stopwatch in her nimble fingers. She’d been listening to the gears as they whispered secrets of the device’s inner workings.
I never cared much for Bigfoot as a kid, even though I live in his backyard. Have you seen the crazies who hunt him? No thanks.
But I was concerned with the Canadian legend of a three-inch-tall gray creature that built nests out of dryer lint. Something people like to think doesn’t exist in
Outside the glass walls of my office, people bustled purposefully about the main floor of the Magical Persons Agency. I, however, sat behind my desk ready to hit my head against one of said walls.
Someone knocked on my door, then rattled the handle. I looked up just as Agent Natalia phased through the
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