I punched the Mustang into gear, tires squealing down the unlit county highway.
The sudden acceleration pressed the man beside me back in his seat. He made no move to grab the door handle for support. Probably because I’d zip-tied his wrists behind his back.
“I thought your orders specified not to harm me.”
One hundred seventy hours. That’s it between me and flying somewhere beyond Inteltech’s reach.
I tug my sleeve over my tracker cuff, wishing my sentence for “reckless flying” could disappear so easily. No matter how hard I pleaded my case, Inteltech refused to listen.
Grivo, my cyborg overseer, adjusts his position atop a graffiti-covered
Zai’s blood pressure skyrocketed at the sight of the woman sauntering into the restaurant, her golden hair wound in a coronet, a faint sneer marring her otherwise perfect face. One look was all he needed to recognize Viola Gill, the galaxy’s most notorious slave trafficker.
He was bussing tables at the Perfect Plate
When I took this bounty, I didn’t think it would be this boring.
During the last five parties hosted by high-ranking officials in this region, rare items had disappeared. As if fading into thin air.
Zaivar stifled another yawn behind his hand.
The hypnotic dancing had almost lulled him to sleep more than once.
“Celia Downing was one gutsy lady,” my partner told our suspect. “The 9-1-1 operator asked who’d attacked her. Her last word was, ‘Kytt.’” Ed pointed at Kytt Windthorn’s childlike face.
Windthorn folded her arms. Her right eye was the same shade of blue as the interrogation room’s walls; her left, the same avocado green
I had promised my wife, Olivia, I would be home at five, yet as the clock ticks past seven, I still haven’t left my office. But I can’t help it, I love my job. I would tell you exactly what I do for a living, but it is quite classified. Lucky for me
Read it now
Chasing Joe Enza was like trying to catch smoke. Just when I thought I had him, he’d slip through my fingers, leaping into another timeline—another reality. It was maddening.
But this time, he was still in sight—at least for now.
I tucked a long strand of my auburn hair behind my ear
Wan December sunlight shone down on Fairyland, softening the edges of nearby buildings. The clear blue sky boded well for the first day of business at Frank’s Detective Agency.
My detective agency.
I turned toward my desk, clapping my fore-hooves in anticipation. Perhaps my first case would be a big one, like those portrayed
Agent Rand once said the holiday season brings people together like the crowds of merry New Yorkers seventy floors below. While my FBI partner might not have worried about forging willy-nilly attachments, I was content keeping to myself. Otherwise, I might’ve been easily manipulated in situations like this atop the Rockefeller Center.
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“Merry Christmas, Eliza.”
My husband Reynolds ruffled my dark hair, waking me. I came to on the living room couch with a gasp and wiped my mouth. My fingers passed over the pillow lines on my face.
It was nice to have a body again, after being dead for so long.
The thought
“Here’s the tracks the thief left, Frank.” Fairyland Hardware’s proprietor Marvin pointed to a muddy patch of ground behind the store.
I ambled over to look. Word about my crime-solving prowess had gotten around. These days, Frank’s Detective Agency was the first stop for most Fairyland folk when they had a mystery to unravel, and that worked for me.
When someone dies, the general assumption is that they will stay dead. But every Day of the Dead, the laws of time and nature look the other way, and deceased relatives can drop by for family reunions.
Deceased relatives like myself.
I waited at the end of the driveway where my family lived. Reynolds stood by me with his arms crossed.
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