A storm surged from the West, blotting out the sky. The Sly Maven clung to the treacherous rocks. The Imperial fleet following close in its wake. If I could set my sextant to the North Star before the clouds smothered it, we would escape, but it was not to be. My guiding star and my greatest betrayer dropped from the sky to the gasps of my crew.

The river current beat against May, and the silt obscured her view of the Fae. Beneath the Mississippi, Nikkon, her father, didn’t rule the court, but his word swayed opinion as surely as the mighty river carved a path to the sea. And he had announced her unfit.

How did Jovas find her? Was it simply luck?

“Bad luck,” Ava muttered, nibbling a beignet. Powdered sugar misted her shirt as she walked through the French Quarter. She’d grown fond of the soulful city’s late nights and lazy mornings.

“Misplaced in time, a person can come unmoored as if they do not exist at all….you may soon find yourself lost in the void, dissolving into the bright lights of foreign streets.”

Ava nodded gravelly, wiped a dollop of cream from her lips with a finger, and popped it into her mouth. “Unmoored. Void. Bright lights. Very scary.”

Buford woke screaming as razor-sharp claws scraped his scalp, and glowing red eyes dropped behind the headboard. He smudged a bead of blood from his forehead, leaving a glistening red streak.

Obliged to check it out, Ava wriggled her fingers through the opening. She snatched them back when the nails began to dissolve into the air. Slowly they fell back into place, although, she noticed a freckle landed a good half-inch short where it started. Intrigued, Ava thrust the broom outside, and its bristles melted.

A scaled creature leached of color writhed on the scarred wood, attempting to unfurl paper-thin wings and failing. Seymour found the drakling quivering in the forest. He wrapped it snug inside his coat and brought it home, but he knew it was dying and there was naught he could do about it. With a final rusty cry, the creature fell still.

Ollie watched the train pull into the statin from behind a column. A man in a gray cap paced the platform, eyeing it. No one debarked. A woman stood in front of the first car, wringing her hands. A hulking man climbed on board, shoulders sagging, face set in a scowl. A slim person bounded between the nervous man and the waiting woman and onto the train.

Mists rose around the crypts in New Orleans’s “City of the Dead”. I’d joined the cemetery tour on a whim that morning. Maybe looking for Jeremy. Maybe looking to mourn.

The clouds scudded across the moon, catching me in a well of darkness between one streetlamp and the next. An elderly lady called from her front porch, “You there. Get home while you still can.”

The wrought iron gate barred this peaceful place from the searing lights of the city. Shadows cloaked me, and the moon shown down with a sympathetic eye.

“Oh, you’re definitely a demon, particularly in the morning.” PJ ran water over his fingers. He stopped, stunned, eyes wide, seeing what hung over the sink. “That’s it!”

“…the cock calls up the sun. The owl calls down the moon. And the crow calls for the reaper.”

Servos set my hips swaying to draw attention from the pumps screwed to my feet and the silk stockings covering my stainless steel legs. Metal screeched. Steam blasted the air. And the smell of coal dust enveloped me like a blanket as the train approached the platform.

I fall to padded feet and snuffle the frosted air. The huntsman approaches. I have but a moment to escape, but I do not. I throw back my head and howl. The cry of the golden eagle answers my call, and the huntsman goes still. The forest falls silent in anticipation.

The flames took a breath and roared, engulfing Leila. Her wings unfurled as she soared free of the casino’s island, leaving me amidst the towering inferno.

Perhaps I should hate her.

Ada sat amidst a confectionary explosion. The satyr left hoof prints in his wake. His antlers scraped the doorframe…Ada blinked frosted eyelashes, pasted on her least mischievous, most endearing smile, and licked powdered sugar from her lips. “Who knew it would explode?”

The steel edge dug painfully into my wrists as the demons argued over my fate. The boar-headed one grumbled. “The metal singed my fingers to the bone.”

The goat-footed one growled. “Boss Lady says make sure she don’t come back.”

The intense eyes snared her attention. Evelyn had only ever seen them in the night. The man in the gray silk suit walked the hectic urban street, deftly navigating the throngs like a cutter to the sea. As he approached, it seemed for an instant, he knew her, but no. Not here. The stranger was the man of her dreams, not of this waking world.

“You torched Pop’s shop. You lost payroll to a swarm of rabid fairies. And you gave Alley fleas.”

“I contest that last accusation,” PJ the satyr said, scratching his tail.