I’m Frank Pepitone, from the Superhero Accountability Department. SAD is a subdepartment of the Preternatural Hero Force. If you find out you have superpowers one day, don’t hesitate to keep it to yourself.
The world needs more superhumans who mind their own business.
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The best way to stop a museum heist is to get stolen yourself.
In the darkness of the shipping crate, I wait amid packing peanuts and the four-by-six oaken-framed masterpiece that da Vinci painted with his left hand while using his right for a certain other work.
A shaft of light pierces the gloom as a crowbar pries off one of the top slats,
When Bard’s parents named him, they bestowed on him one of the greatest gifts in Valoria. Storytelling. Except that required him to speak in front of a crowd. And for Bard, that was a task as insurmountable as facing a dragon.
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Everyone dreams of finding their one true love at a grand ball. I happen to be at a grand ball at the moment, but there’s no time for Handsome Prince Sightseeing.
Only murder.
Don’t fret—I’m not here to take a life.
I’m here to kill dreams. It’s my duty.
As usual, morning in the village was quiet. Until I saw Martha.
She was hauling boxes into the street outside her cottage. Everyone knew her as the widow who hadn’t left her home since her husband’s death five months ago. A porcelain lamp shattered against
If there was one thing that Iris City had in surplus, it was abandoned buildings. In his Icebird guise, Houston Haas circled over a block full of them, trying to localize the lady’s cries for help. At last, he pinpointed a rusting building that had once been a warehouse, surrounded by a graveyard of other similarly decrepit structures.
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Tin Eyeswell stood on the precipice of immortality. The only obstacle between him and a hefty cache of Caerulum crystal was a group of peddlers down in the ravine.
Collateral damage.
Tin nodded at his partner, Merek, and caught his scruffy and sunburnt reflection off Merek’s metal
Scarlet slammed her textbook down in front of the Head T.A. of Color-Based Synesthetics. “Teach me color transfer.”
The tired-looking elf didn’t look up from his book. “Hello to you, too, Scarlet. And no. You can’t learn color transfer for two more years.”
“It’s important, Aeris!”
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Dee Dalsey was constantly surrounded by heroes. Big heroes. Little heroes. (One that could be either, depending on the need.) Heroes with super strength, super speed, or super senses. Not to mention the whole slew of heroes that could fly.
Yet none
Someone shrieked. Everyone’s heads, including mine, swung toward the east side of the village. A riderless broom raced westward, skimming almost close enough overhead to part my hair. Something red dripped from its straws.
Some folks in the market square yelped with panic. Others raced for cover. A few flung themselves over their wares.
“Evie! Wake up!” I shake my sister, careful not to touch her skin, and grimace at the new color engulfing her favorite fluffy blanket.
“Tiff?” Evie yawns. I back away. She opens her eyes, takes one look at me, and shrieks.
“Shhh!” I wave my hands, eyes wide.
“What happened to you?” she hisses,
Anticipation pulses through Anya as she hears the car pull up outside. She rises, making her way to the door, giggling quietly before schooling her features and opening it.
The man steps onto the porch, his aftershave hitting her nose, the scent marking his youth. “Mrs. Jansen? I’m Jed Barker. The agency sent me.”
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