She swept into town like the swirls of dust that haunted the desert plains, a lonely traveler like a bounding weed, and struck out to seek what was lost.
The town, its decrepit buildings leaning into the incessant south winds, swiftly spread the name of Mellie Rembrandt. Nobody forgot a name like Rembrandt…
Vince was grateful for his wetsuit, even though the frigid waters of the Potomac still stung as he rolled out of his boat that fated January morning. He gasped. Instantly, his bones began to ache.
I’m too old for this.
The sign plastered on a buoy read, “POOR VISIBILITY, STRONG CURRENTS.”
The inspector tapped on the microphone. A sharp burst of static filled the room. “All right. We have Prisoner WVM-01 here for questioning. Please detail for our records your involvement in the Silver Bridge Accident on December 15th, 1967.” He flicked on a floodlight, and I blinked behind my night vision goggles.
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Martin awoke to a few unexpected discoveries, the first of which was finding himself suspended upside down from a tree branch. Considering his last memory was losing his footing and tumbling down a sharp embankment, this predicament came as a relief. After all, he wasn’t dead or grievously injured. So that was a plus.
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Donner. Where’s Donner?
Nicholas shielded his face from the blizzard’s gale, lifted his kerosene lamp, and counted the antlered heads of his reindeer. Dasher. Dancer.
A January gust smacked his red coat. Snow stung rosy cheeks.
Prancer… Vixen. The old man’s teeth gritted. Comet… Cupid… Blitzen…
Donner?
Yukon peaks loomed in silent observance…
Time Square is a sensory overload waiting to happen—the heart of the city that never sleeps. Between the flashing boards, blaring traffic, and constantly moving people, it’s nearly impossible to find something in the mess.
Nearly being the keyword.
I leaned against the side of a building, slowly chewing a classic
Henry stared wide-eyed at the top of his tent. Was Gerald’s snoring growing louder? Sighing, he crawled from his sleeping bag and unzipped the flap. Memories of campfire smoke and burnt hotdogs clung to the crisp night air. His stomach growled.
“Might as well have a midnight snack,” Henry muttered. “No use…
Every siren in Onda’s class had amazing song powers. Rosa could heal. Jewel could create a defensive shield. Even dorky Cosmo had the power to convince the orcas that they would be better off swimming far away from Rafferty, keeping them safe from attack.
All Onda’s singing ever did was put things to sleep.
Dr. Miranda eyed the teenager perched before her. Tilli was a wisp of a girl with hot pink hair and delicate, almost pixie-like features. A lumpy, burlap sack lay by her feet. Though she was curious about the bag’s contents, Dr. Miranda decided to wait for Tilli to explain.
“So, what brought you in today…
“I don’t know what to do.” Margo peeked around the doorframe.
Her son lounged in his hammock, one leg dangling over the edge.
She adjusted the conch shell against her ear. “All Birch does is sit in his room and listen to fairy pop. Neither of his brothers were this—”
“Lazy,”
“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?”
Something was coming. Renard raised his hand, calling for a halt. His men stopped instantly, and he cocked his head, listening for the sound of their prey.
Breaking branches and pounding hoofs in full charge approached them through the woods. A large, tusked boar nigh on five hundred pounds burst into view.
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