“Work the night shift, they said.” Oscar pushed his chair back from the wall of screens. “It’ll be easy, they said.” He wheeled himself over to the small desk holding the telephone and began pressing the number for the tactical team’s head. “Well, in what world is a twenty-foot-tall praying mantis easy?”
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There were many things eight-year-old Haddie Underwood did not like—sitting still, doing her spellcaster homework, dogs—but she hated being lied to most of all.
Haddie squeezed her sister’s hand and pointed in utter betrayal at the animal inside the deep pit that functioned as a zoo exhibit. “Where is the giant panda?”
I lost it!
The one thing. The one responsibility I had in my care. And I lost it.
I raced down the corridor. My diamond-sharp claws dug into the floor, and my smooth, taut wings accelerated me forward. Suddenly, my shoulder slammed into a polished iron door. It swung back on its hinges
Whose bright idea was it to stuff a giant venomous lizard in a transport shuttle and ferry it to the outer asteroid belt?
Well, whoever’s problem it started as, it was Holt’s problem now. A ten-foot-long, 300-pound problem.
Just another Tuesday on the Wolf Station Zoological Habitat of the Outer Asteroid Belt.
On all the nine planets, there exists no creature more majestic than the mighty water buffalo. Resilient. Unflappable. And unpardonably cute when presented with a juicy slice of watermelon.
“Aren’t you the most darling girl? Yes.” Amelia cooed as she scratched the coarse hair between Mrs. Bates’s big dark eyes.
Bates paid
I wake to vertical metal bars rising like walls all around me and a thick chain acting like a piece of jewelry around my neck.
I am right where I am supposed to be.
As I rise on all fours and stretch out my back, I can barely move a few inches
I wound my way through octahedron-shaped tables occupied by a variety of alien species and approached the only other human in the bar. “Fancy meeting you here, Flynn.”
As soon as his hazel eyes rested on me, I wished I’d dressed cuter than corporate casual. And taken more care with my hair and makeup.
My name is Spade. Samara Spade. Tonight was supposed to be my first undercover without Dod—dear old Dad, in other words. But I had backup. At least until someone slipped him a mickey.
The case started this morning. A lady—I’m still trying to get Dod not to call them dames—came into our office distraught.
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