“Thanks so much for watching Zeus on such short notice! You’re a lifesaver!”
Mark shrugged. “Well, you said I only had to sit and, like, watch TV with him, so…”
“Yeah, he won’t be any trouble.” Becca bent toward the cream-colored Himalayan curled up on the couch. She lifted his face between her palms
I grasp the cold metal handle and swing open the door of Interrogation room B. With its cinder block walls, steel table, and single chair that sit facing the door, it sends a chill down my spine. My bond pet nestles closer to my neck, hiding from the man tied to the chair.
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Vills climbed onto the bottom rung of the wooden fence and peered into the pen. “Willy, can you really understand what he’s sayin’?”
His older brother squatted, staring into the eyes of their piglet, Charleston. “Shhh. I gotta concentrate.”
Charleston snorted, squealed, and danced around in a circle.
Vills leaned his shoulders over the
I go to the beach to escape committing more murder.
I take in the ocean’s revitalizing air to think clearly. The salty waves sting the broken blisters on my feet. I dip my hands into the water, wishing I could wash the metaphorical blood from them, and the coldness sends shivers over my body.
I landed face down in the dirt. Again. I spat dirt and scowled. “Would you stop that?”
Raddick shook his silvery mane. “To ride in the Sky War, young Myron, you must learn to ride.”
I wiped blood from my palm. “But you’re trying to throw me.”
“In a barrage of blaster fire,
“Did you just ask me to cut off your head?” Arden stared through the iron bars at the tiger.
“I did.” The cat calmly laid her head on her paws.
“You must be mad!”
“Perhaps.” Her lips curled back in a grin like some overgrown Cheshire Cat.
He shivered. He hoped the dormice
“Scarlet!”
I wince.
“Yes, ma’am?” I turn and bow to our loud neighbor.
“Are you going to drag your grandfather home?”
I bristle at her tone. He may drink too much, but only to forget his memories of the war. Everyone understands… except Lenora Cutter. She never has grace for anyone, not even
What’s a spy’s greatest enemy? Ask any red-blubbered agent in Her Majesty’s Sea Critter Service and they’ll give you the same answer.
Stairs.
I sighed and looked down my glasses at the long flight of marble steps awaiting me. Bubbly Christmas music played in the background. The ballroom was alive with sea creatures mingling.
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Hessie crept through the underbrush, in search of an ancient pyramid filled with legendary treasures. The rustling ferns, howling monkeys, and cawing toucans told her the jungle was alive and awake.
Grima had gone first. Not because he was the best at navigating the jungle—though his knee-high boots, the wide-brimmed hat
Ávila de la Mora peered between the trees of Inverness Wood with a pigeon perched on her shoulder. “You’re sure this is the best entrance, Atlas?”
Yes, the pigeon cooed across their bond. The trinket is not far from here.
As soon as she crossed into the wood full of magical creatures and artifacts,
Miles—scarab beetle and humble photojournalist—strained to listen. He glanced at the surrounding trees, spectral colossi in the moonlight. A fallen log sat rotting, just ahead.
“I don’t hear anything.”
Calvin—atlas beetle and journalist—stood stock still. His three horns curved upward in a graceful silhouette against the dark horizon.
The jungle island loomed ahead, a silhouette against the rising sun. I hurtled across the tips of the waves in my best tuxedo. Six of the most accomplished and highly trained Navy SEALs to ever swim for Uncle Sam followed close behind.
We made for a cave hidden at the back of a narrow cove,
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