“For too long, the pigs have slammed the door on us wolves. They’ve got us by the chinny-chin-chin!” Burly gray wolf Bigsby Badham paces the stage in a huff before a towering jumbotron showing the rotating logo of his company, Wolf Works. “But this is the year we blow them away!”
The auditorium erupts
“We’ve got a fanfiction character on the loose, Agent Spaulding.” Fledgling hands me a dossier.
I kick my heels onto my desk. “And?”
Fledgling’s eyes widen. “And? Regulations state we need to hunt it down before it tangles the timelines, sir!”
“I know
“What in Hades are you doing here?”
Kytt Windthorn scrambled away from the person who had whispered over her left shoulder. She jerked her head, knocking her glasses askew. Kytt turned around and crouched next to a display case of a shadow-filled Palmer’s Jewelry Store. She crossed her arms, a diamond necklace swaying
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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Saturday, February 22, my junior year of high school, was the most memorable day of my life—and the president’s.
It started the night before, when I was in my room doing trigonometry homework and listening to a replay of President Lance Quagmire’s afternoon press conference. I had to shut it off.
The arrow ripped open my pant leg, slicing into my thigh. Leave it to the Mythic Mafia to get all theatrical with their weapon choices.
“Are you hurt, sir?” the girl beside me asked.
“Shut up and run,” I ordered.
We raced around a corner. Well, she raced, and I limped.
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
When facing a monster, espionage missions don’t have to be lethal.
Hopefully this is one of those times, Secret Agent Rebecca Edelweiss thought as she knocked on the cabin’s entrance. She squared her shoulders and put on her I mean business face while waiting for the creature to answer.
A bushy-haired, seven-foot man
The thumb drive is in my coat pocket, slapping my leg with every step as I weave through the hypogeum. The Colosseum’s floodlights illuminate the broken walls from above while small lights along the ground light up the path. Blood seeps from my shoulder and trickles down my arm, dripping from my fingers and…
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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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The rich aroma of coffee flooded my gray bottlenose. I picked up my mug with one flipper and sighed happily. My break had arrived, that relaxing island of time. A chance to drink coffee and think about my favorite video game, Call of Da Sea.
I gazed longingly at a chair, wishing I had
Come on, try one.” Sal popped a blue strawberry into his mouth.
Jane examined one. “They’re blue. Strawberries are supposed to be red.”
“I know, but my second… no, third cousin Fragar likes to experiment.” Sal took the upcoming exit. “Be adventurous.”
Jane dropped the fruit back into the basket. “I’m not eating
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