The Queen of Hearts stepped over Alice’s corpse, her long, crimson cape trailing across the body. Any true Superior wore a cape, of course. The Queen had written that law herself—partly to prove that, despite Alice’s claims, the girl’s DNA held no potential for Superior gifting.
Beneath the Queen’s boots, the engines of Hearts
“Awwww, puppy!”
It was a totally weird thing to hear inside the mall. I turned just as a blur of golden fur burst out of the food court. It sped past me, its coat changing colors as it reflected the neon lights of the storefronts. It looked like the Yorkie mutt from the movie Benji.
Disoriented, I sit up and nudge Matteo’s calico off my pillow. With a grunt and a stiff push, I ease out of bed and pull open the curtain. A hint of morning flushes pale shadows from the woods. With my canvas apron wrapped tight, I pull on the sweater by the door and slide
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“If Ashe wanted to convince him, she would have to face him alone.”
The Narrator in her head, her “magic,” spoke. The voice narrated events around her periodically, granting her insights she had no right to possess. She hesitated outside the entrance to Canopy’s sole tree-top lodge, The Maplebark Inn. Its owner would complete
“I can’t believe her!” Dr. Null paced at the lair’s front door. “She said she thought this lair was perfect for us, but she forgot to mention the colony of warmongering squirrels?”
“Calm down, Your Emptiness,” Inferno quipped. “We’ll just evict the Xintixa and the lairs is ours. No wonder the price is low;
A luminous nymph dashes from the darkening woods, leaping barefoot from log to rock. Her silver hair glows, reflecting the light of the two bright moons above. Her pale, web-like dress snags on a branch as she streaks by. A path of blood follows her as she bolts through the brush.
She is no spirit.
Zaivar crouched in the shadows of an abandoned factory and strained his bloodvoice for his target’s thoughts.
There.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, and he crept forward. Zai prowled through the decrepit alley with the steady stride of a trained hunter. The warrant turned over in his head as he moved.
Transfiguration Church’s Pasta Night was the same every year: an all-you-can-eat Italian buffet, two hundred parishioners cramming the American Legion Hall, old folks doing “YMCA,” and the 50-50 raffle.
My sister Cecily and I always spent every minute in the bar.
Not for the booze.
Spark ran through the brush, desperately trying to escape the T-Rex crashing through the jungle behind him. At last, he broke into a clearing. The amulet that the old gypsy had given him provided the only control he had over the curse
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The harmonic hall doors slammed and Spark hurtled out and over the low balustrade to the pavement, rolling to a stop and barely catching himself from going over the edge into the clouds below the floating city of Sonata. It was a two-mile drop
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“Lord Paraguin.” My advisor hurried after me. “We must do something about the land Lord Egerton seized.”
I quickened my pace with a huff. Think! That was never my strong suit, but I was thrust into this role after barely reaching adulthood
So many promises. So little time.
I raced over the mossy ground.
We’re counting on you, Spark.
My sister, Quietus’s words rang through my mind like bells in the village square. She was right. No one else could do this. I just had to
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