Excerpt from Rosamond’s Heart

Freedom.

Rosamond de Grace lifted her face to the morning sun, let its warmth seep into her skin.

Today was her birthday, and Lady Cerise had given her the entire day to do as she pleased. She planned to spend all of it as far from the castle as she could get. As far away from her memories as she could get.

Lifting her skirts, she ran across the bailey—and did a quick sidestep to avoid crashing into Nicolas, the burly captain in charge of the castle garrison.

His strong fingers closed over her shoulder. “Sorry, Rose. I didn’t see you.”

“Please, don’t apologize, Nicolas—I know you have your hands full.” She looked up at him, worried by the lines of exhaustion that scored his face, and equally worried for their cause. “Is there any word on Prince Jaren?”

“None.” Nicolas rubbed the bridge of his nose, and his guard slipped long enough for Rosamond to see the anger, the fear in his dark brown eyes.

Prince Jaren had been missing for three days now, and so far, the patrols Nicolas sent out hourly had found no sign of him.

Lady Cerise remained calm and unruffled, but Rosamond caught glimpses of the panic she hid behind her calm. That milady remembered her birthday at all made Rosamond doubly grateful.

“How are you?” she asked him.

Nicolas smiled, easing some of the strain. “Better, now I’ve seen you. Our lessons will have to wait, until we bring him home.”

That he didn’t add safe or alive to bringing the prince home tightened her throat. Lady Cerise would be devastated if the prince—

She cut off the thought. “I know you’ll find him, Nicolas.”

“Your words to the gods’ ears, Rose.”

“Not to worry.” She tried to lighten her voice. “My sword and those blasted throwing knives aren’t going anywhere. Unfortunately.”

His smile widened, just as she intended. “So, my girl, you have the day off from your lessons. What about your duties as Lady Cerise’s favorite new lady-in-waiting?”

Rosamond blushed at the compliment. “She gave me the entire day to myself.”

“Then you go and enjoy it.” He took her hands, his calloused grip warm and comforting. “Let the past stay in the past, where it belongs.”

Swallowing, she stared at their joined hands. “I’m planning to do just that. Nicolas, I—”

“Not another thank you.” He squeezed her hands. “You’ve more than earned your place here, and I could not be prouder of who you’ve become. Take today, make it your own.” Smiling, he leaned in and whispered against her hair. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

Before she could shake her surprise, he left her, stalking the length of the bailey, his clenched fists the only giveaway of his fear for the prince. With a slower, heavier step she headed for her destination, waving at the soldiers who trained a few yards away.

She rubbed absently at the callouses on her palm as she walked. Callouses caused by wielding a sword for hours at a time. Callouses that even heavy gloves didn’t prevent. She had resorted to wearing the lacy half-gloves she hated to keep from snagging delicate, expensive gowns.

But she knew, given her history, how those lessons eased Lady Cerise’s concern for her, so she kept any objections to herself.

The stable doors stood open, and as she approached, she could hear Dan singing to the horses. His voice had deepened over the last few months to a rich, scratched velvet tone. He spent those months in constant embarrassment, his voice cracking at unexpected moments—and blushed furiously every time it betrayed him.

Now, she heard the voice of the man he was becoming, and she liked it, far too much.

She watched him as he brushed the mare standing in front of him. His shoulder length black hair was tied back into a queue, revealing the birthmark that had always fascinated her.

A small, four pointed star, as green as his eyes. The first time she saw it, she thought it was a tattoo. But Dan told her, his eyes twinkling with mischief, that it was the mark of the dragon.

Seven-year-old Rosamond had believed him.

Smiling at the memory, she stepped inside, her skirts rustling on the fresh straw. Dan glanced over his shoulder and gave her a crooked smile.

“Morning, Rose. Have a seat—I’ve almost finished Lacy. She had a limp today, but we found the reason, didn’t we, Lacy?” He ran the wide brush in his hand along the bay’s flank with smooth, even strokes. “A bit early to be leaving your mistress, isn’t it?”

Her heart skipped.

He’s forgotten my birthday.

She tamped down her disappointment. With everyone in the castle worried about Prince Jaren, the extra patrols, and the entire garrison stomping around the bailey, the added work for Dan and his father most likely pushed it right out of his mind.

“Dan, how would you like to spend the day with me, a picnic basket, and two horses?”

He turned, dropping the brush in a wooden box. “And what’s the occasion?”

“Lady Cerise gave me the day off.”

“I’ll have to do some asking. Soldiers are thick on the ground today.” The same fear she had seen in Nicolas flared across Dan’s face. “I saw you talking to the captain. Anything?”

“Not yet. I am sorry, Dan.” As the prince’s groom, Dan worked with him almost daily, and cared for the prince more than he would ever admit. “They won’t stop until they find him.”

“It’s been too long, Rose. If he’s hurt—” Anguish scraped across his voice.

“Dan—”

He swung away from her reaching hand, his shoulders hunched. “I’ll be right back. Don’t run away.”

He grabbed Lacy’s bridle, his left foot dragging as he led the mare back to her stall.

Rosamond watched him, remembering the horror she had felt when the prince’s new stallion had attacked Dan moments after arriving at the castle.

He had gone wild, those deadly hooves breaking Dan’s leg, his left arm, and slashing open the skin over his right eye before soldiers managed to get the beast under control.

Two years of healing had given him back full use of his arm, and the stallion’s hoof had left a long, narrow scar that cut through his right eyebrow. But the butchers who called themselves physicians had set his leg wrong. By the time Dan’s father discovered it, nothing could be done.

Dan compensated for the weakness quite well, though the damp winters tired him, and she knew his leg ached more than he let on. He could still ride better than most of the cavalry, and he never lost his love for the horses in his care.

Rosamond admired his courage—she’d been too scared to go near a horse for months after the attack.

“I’ve been freed.” Dan moved across the stable, graceful despite his broken gait. Smiling, the pain in his eyes gone for the moment, he lifted his hand and opened it. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. “You remembered.”

“You thought I’d forgotten? I am wounded.” He staggered, clutching his chest dramatically. “How could I possibly forget the most important day of the most important person in my life? I am overcome.” His fingers closed over the tiny box. “I may have to keep the gift.” He smiled at her outraged gasp. “To ease my shame.”

“Give it over.” She tried not to laugh—it would only encourage him—but she couldn’t stop herself. “Dan—”

“I am merely your humble servant, my lady, at your command.” With a bow and flourish, he laid the box in her hand. Surprise jolted her when he kissed her cheek. “I hope you like it.”

Her fingers shook as she reached for the clasp.

Silly—it was just a friendly kiss, for my birthday. It meant nothing more.

On the third try, the silver clasp popped open, and she lifted the lid.

“Oh, Dan,” she whispered. A silver pendant rested on the black velvet, finely wrought, of a dragon in flight. The same dragon she had seen carved into the most ancient parts of the castle. Her dragon. She blinked back tears as she looked up at him. “How—”

“The silversmith owed me a favor. Let me put it on.”

He picked up the necklace and moved behind her, draping the long, delicate chain around her neck. The dragon rested just above the scooping neckline of her gown.

“Dan—it’s perfect.” She touched one wing, the silver cool against her skin. “How can I thank you for something so beautiful?”

“By wearing it.”

“I’ll never take it off.” She turned around, and before she could stop herself, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

He blushed and spun away from her. “I’d best get those horses saddled.”

“I’ll fetch the basket. Cook promised to fill it to the brim when I told her that you would be sharing it.” He hunched his shoulders—and Rosamond knew she had somehow hurt him again. “Dan? What is it?”

“I don’t have—the same appetite, since…” His voice faded.

He never spoke of the attack. That he even referred to it now startled her.

She pasted a smile on her face and moved to his side. “It will not go to waste, I promise you. As milady so delicately stated, I have the stomach capacity of ten strong men.”

He laughed, just as she’d hoped. His brilliant green eyes studied her. “How do you do that? How do you help me forget?”

“Because what happened hasn’t changed who you are. Not to me.” Gratitude flared in his eyes. “Go on, saddle the horses. And no sidesaddle,” she called after him.

He stopped dead, his eyes wide as he turned to her. “You’re not wearing—”

“I want to be comfortable—and Lady Cerise gave her blessing. She had an exact duplicate made for herself, and told me it is the best riding outfit she ever owned.”

“Heaven help me.” Dan ran both hands through his hair, dislodging the leather strip holding his queue. He yanked it free and stalked toward the stalls. “I’ll never be living this one down. Never.”

Rosamond smiled as she headed for the castle.

~*~

Excerpt from Daniel of Black Mountain

Dan felt the presence—just before he heard the quiet thump on the cobblestoned courtyard outside.

Slipping off his narrow pallet, he grabbed the closest shirt and pulled it over his head. Pressed against the wall of the tiny chamber he called home at the academy, he inched along it until he could see out the window. What greeted him lodged his breath in his throat.

Moonlight bounced off the black, scaled head of a dragon.

That head snapped up, crystal green eyes looking straight at Dan.

He couldn’t move, lost in the power of that gaze. Before he knew how it happened, he found himself in the courtyard, in arm’s reach of the creature.

The agony pouring off the dragon blasted him.

His left leg ached with it, the old injury flaring into life, despite being completely healed. The dragon raised its head—and Dan fell to his knees, pain and fury driving into him.

“Please,” he whispered, his throat raw. “I can help you.” If you don’t kill me first. “Let me—”

He clutched his head as the images slammed into his mind.

Flying over the mountains, free, powerful, alive. Confusion as his wings faltered—then agony, burning through his right side. Fear, an emotion he did not often know, driving him to this place, where he could communicate, warn, seek help—

“Danel.” Strong hands pulled him up, out of the vision. Dragonmaster Kieren knelt in front of him, concern on his narrow, scarred face. “Can you hear me, son?”

“Master.” Dan cleared his throat, looked into the clear green eyes. Sharp and intelligent, like the creature huddled next to them. “He’s dying.”

Surprise flared in Kieren’s eyes. “We will talk of how you know this later. Stay put.”

Dan sat, rubbing at his leg. He admired the Dragonmaster’s courage as the tall man approached the dragon. It outweighed him by thousands of pounds. “I know you’re hurting, old man. Show me where.”

The dragon shook his head—as if he understood what Kieren asked—and lowered his head in what Dan recognized as attack stance.

Panic pushed him to has knees. “Master—”

Kieren waved him off. Dan saw why a moment later. The dragon couldn’t leap at him. His back right leg hung limp and useless. “Can you heal through fear, son?”

Dan already knew the answer to that. “Yes, master.”

“Come, then. He’s in pain.” Dan crawled over to where Kieren crouched at the dragon’s side. “I don’t know if you can save him, but I need enough time to find out what happened.”

Nodding, Dan kept the vision to himself, stretched out his still aching leg, and took a deep breath before laying his hands on the dragon’s side.

Agony scorched him.

He’d left his bloodstone, his focus, on the table next to his bed, and had nothing to deflect it. Using that agony, like he had before, he focused it, reached in, found the source of the dragon’s pain.

A roar nearly deafened him.

“Keep going, son.” He barely heard Kieren through the pain, the rage pounding him. “Show me what happened, old man. Who did this to you?”

More images skated across Dan’s mind. He pushed them aside, struggling through the resistance the dragon threw at him.

Stop fighting me—

His heart nearly stopped when the dragon’s hot breath blew hair off his cheek. Swallowing, his lifted his head, and looked straight into one crystal green eye.

“Danel, don’t—”

“You know, don’t you?” Dan understood now why the dragon fought him. His healing touched the source of the wound, and there was nothing he could do. Some kind of poison ravaged the dragon’s power, eating his spirit alive. “Please show me who, so I can keep this from happening again.”

He held on as the dragon slammed into his mind, dragged him out of the courtyard and to one of the mountains surrounding the academy.

Blood stained the black rock, great swaths of it, laced with an ugly grey shimmer. The dragon’s pain drove into him. The helpless rage shook him to the core.

Moments after the dragon was attacked, he knew he would die, knew he had no chance of survival. But he came anyway—used the last of his strength to warn them, to show them what happened. And that it would happen again—

“Danel—come back to me now, son.” Dan felt the hand on the back of his neck, warm, calloused, real. “Come on back.” Dan took in a ragged breath—and hunched over as he coughed, every inch hurting. Kieren eased him onto his back, pushed sweat soaked hair off his face. “Talk to me.”

“I saw—the dragon—” He tried to push himself up. Kieren stopped him, moved just enough for Dan to see the curled figure. Death shrouded the dragon, dulled the black scales. “I couldn’t save him, master.”

“Nothing could have, son. His power was tainted.” Sitting back, Kieren rubbed his face. He looked exhausted, and sick at heart. Dan understood perfectly. “You’ve never had contact with a dragon before tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No, master. I knew they were here—I’ve seen them, from a safe distance.” Kieren’s laugh eased some of the weight on Dan’s heart. “How did I…”

“Communicate?” He wiped at the sweat on Dan’s face. “That is something we will answer. In the morning. Up you get.” He helped Dan to his feet, held on to him when his leg buckled. It hurt as much now as it had before the sorcerer Haneh showed him the way to his own power. “The pain will ease. It is a side effect of connecting with him. Just hold on to me, son.”

Dan lowered his head, startled when the arm around his waist tightened convulsively. “Master?”

“You are—seventeen.” Kieren’s voice sounded strained.

“Yes.”

“And who is your father?”

“Marten of Arina. He is the head groom in the prince’s stables.”

“You take after him?”

“No—he says I have the look of my ma.” The Dragonmaster paled. “Master, are you—”

“Let’s get you inside, Danel, before you catch a chill.”

He led Dan to his chamber, settled him on the bed and helped him out of his damp shirt, treating Dan like he would break at any moment. And Kieren avoided eye contact—the one man who would stare down the arrogant Headmaster without flinching.

“Master.” Kieren stilled, his fingers clenching on the blanket. “Have I done something?”

“Danel…” With a deep breath, Kieren finally looked at him. “Sleep. We will talk tomorrow.”

“What happens now?”

Anger flared across the Dragonmaster’s face. “Now we find who did this. But first, we are going to have to lock down the mountain. No one in, no one out, until we have answers.”

Dan let out a sigh as the door closed behind Kieren.

Rose was not going to be happy.

~*~

Excerpt from Choices

“Dr. Lang—please let me go.”

“I can’t, Maura. You were sent to me, for this purpose, because no one here will miss you.”

His words ripped at her. Grief tore away the thin barrier of protection she had built, minute by minute, over the last three years.

It laid open her soul, the wounds as fresh and raw as the day she killed her parents.

He sat her up, draped her left arm across his shoulders, and grabbed her bag as he used the closest stool to slowly lever them both to their feet.

Maura clutched his jacket, pain scorching her leg as he dragged her forward.

“Stay with me—that’s it, you’re stronger than you think.” She ignored his pep talk, too focused on staying upright. “We’re here, Maura.”

She lifted her head, surrounded by the machines he so fervently believed in. They were silent now. Waiting.

“This is the transport. Touch it—I want this to be real for you.”

Panic overrode the pain. “I’m not—”

“Look at me.” She obeyed, flinching from his anger. “There’s no turning back, for either of us. Do you understand me? You are the final component, my connection to the future. I won’t let you go.”

She didn’t have the strength to fight him.

He pulled her forward. Maura lowered her head, swallowing the scream that clawed up her throat.

“Your journey will begin here.”

His voice brought her head up.

A wide, steel chair stood in front of her, equipped with a series of restraining belts, and riveted to the floor. Bubbled glass framed it, reaching around the chair to embrace her. Her throat tightened as she turned her head, and followed the line of glass to the door behind her.

God, no—

They were inside the transport.

“Maura, I want you to move to the chair.”

Panic shot through her. “You don’t have to do this—”

“I won’t tell you again.” His grip on her left no room for argument.

When she didn’t move, he dragged her toward the chair. His bad leg brushed hers, a sharp breath escaping him with every step.

The drill instructor clip of her self-defense teacher’s voice leapt into her mind.

“Never give the asshole complete control. You do what you need to survive—don’t think you can Nancy-girl your way out, because he’s just waiting for you to submit. Fight him with whatever you’ve got. No matter how weak you think you are, surprise is always a damn strong defense.”

Maura followed her teacher’s advice. Bracing for what she had to do, she let herself stumble. When Dr. Lang turned toward her, she jammed her right knee into his leg.

Pain roared through her.

He fell—and took her down with him.

She slammed against the glass wall, her good leg buckling under her.

“Maura—please tell me you didn’t harm yourself—” She jerked away from the moist fingers touching her, and moaned at the fresh burst of pain. “You are too vital—I can’t replace you, not now. Not when I’m so close. You need to stop fighting me.”

She heard him next to her, cursing under his breath.

Her mind screamed at her to run. But her body retaliated when she tried to move.

Without any warning he grabbed her wrists and hauled her upright. The pressure on her injured leg wrenched a cry out of her.

Focused on staying conscious, she didn’t realize how far he’d taken her until the cold touch of steel shocked her. He bent over her, strapping her left wrist to the arm of the chair.

The chair inside the transport.

Dr. Lang pushed her down when she tried to stand, trapping her against the back of the chair. “Stay still, Maura. This is meant to protect you. My trials with inanimate test subjects have resulted in—damage.”

Oh, God.

She was trapped, with no one to stop him. No one to help her.

He strapped her right wrist to the chair arm, then leaned in and cinched the airplane style belt at her waist. To her surprise, he laid her bag in her lap.

“No need to go unprepared. It’s time.” She met his eyes, the fevered excitement in their depths scaring her. “This is going to take you where I’ve only dreamed. I wish I could go with you—but of course I will be missed.”

He straightened, sweat streaking his face. Maura didn’t feel sorry for hurting him.

Instead, she wished she’d hurt him badly enough to escape.

“Please—don’t do this.”

He ignored her, limping through the doorway of the booth. She watched him close the thick glass door, flinching as each latch snapped shut. Then he made his way to the console, leaning against it as his fingers pushed buttons and pulled levers, bringing the machines around him to life.

Oh, God—this was really happening—

Desperate, Maura jerked against the straps on her wrists. “Dr. Lang—”

Darkness swallowed the booth.

Before she could open her mouth to scream the wall in front of her exploded with blinding gold light.

“Relax, Maura.” His voice bounced off the glass, artificially deepened by the speakers. “The light is your doorway. Welcome it, let it envelop you.”

The light wasn’t cooperating.

It hovered, sharp and chilling. The air around her became restless, icy gusts tugging at her, like powerful, invisible hands.

She fought to free herself, knowing it was useless. The heavy straps trapped her completely.

“Dr. Lang—damn it, let me out of here—”

“I can restart the transport once per day. Listen to me, Maura, I need you to remember this.” She turned her head, met his eyes through the flawed glass. “For three days, at the time you arrived, at the same entry point, you’ll have a ten-minute window to return. I’m already anticipating all the details of your triumphant journey.”

His voice faded into the background as the wind focused, shoving her, binding her arms, trying to drag her out of the restraints.

She screamed—and her voice broke apart on the light, as if that throbbing expanse of gold were solid.

The heavy straps pinning her wrists snapped like thread. Her bag flew out of her lap, hovering in front of her for a long moment.

Then the light pulsed.

The bag disappeared, swallowed by greedy fingers of gold.

Maura clutched at the steel chair as the wind tore away her last restraint, dragging her to the light. She managed to hang on with her left hand—and let go when the chair ripped itself from the floor.

It spiraled, caught by the wind—then flung itself straight at her. Trapped in the invisible grip, she couldn’t move, couldn’t escape.

The chair hit her dead on.

Agony blinded her. Impact pitched her backward—through the cold light and into nothing.

~*~

Excerpt from Snow’s Salvation

The huntsman had found her.

Over her ragged breathing, Snow White heard his boots, crunching through the deep snow. Her gown left a wide and visible trail behind her, the heavy blue velvet dragging at her with every step as it soaked up the melting snow.

She could not outrun him. That fact didn’t stop her from trying. She lifted her wet skirts higher and stumbled forward.

With her father missing for more than two years now, Hilde had taken over, making decisions without Snow’s knowledge. When Snow confronted her, Hilde claimed that she did not want to burden Snow with the petty details of running the kingdom.

Too late, Snow realized that she was one of the petty details.

The “accidents” that had begun to plague her the last few months began to make terrible sense. Losing Tarek to her stepmother was just another painful blow—

She let out a startled cry as the path disappeared under her feet.

Her skirts tangled around her as she rolled down a steep hill, and landed face first in the snow. When she blinked her eyes clear, she found herself staring at boots. Several pairs of boots, sturdy, worn, big.

Afraid she already knew who wore them, she lifted her head.

Dark brown eyes stared at her. Snow forced herself to stare back, despair weighting her heart.

Thieves roamed this forest—Tarek had warned her about them, before she stopped trusting him. She did know they preyed on travelers, and were especially hostile toward anyone who might even smell like nobility.

She was doomed.

~ ~ ~ 

“She’s one of them, from up to the castle.” The angry voice had Snow scooting backward—until she trapped herself against the base of the steep hill that sent her down here. The voice’s owner strode over to her, tall, thin, and younger than she expected. “How much do you think she’s worth?”

“Plenty, with that much velvet on her.”

The men surrounded her, wrapped in furs, what clothing she could see ragged and patched.

“She’s terrible pretty, Dak.” The young man looked over at who was clearly the leader. He had the presence, and the arrogance, in his strong face. “I say we take her home first, before we go asking for ransom.”

Snow spoke before she lost her nerve. “She will not pay you for me.”

The man called Dak leaned in, his burnished club tilting up her chin. “Who is this she, little one?”

Snow swallowed. If she told them, she had no chance at escape.

“Please, just let me go,” she whispered.

He stilled, his dark brown eyes intent. The other men crowded next to him, staring at her as if she had spoken a foreign language. He lowered his club, and crouched in front of her. She fought the need to recoil.

“Say that again.”

“Please. I only want to pass.”

“Your kind doesn’t usually know the meaning of please.”

Snow couldn’t help herself—she smiled at the disgruntled tone. “My kind can be unbearably rude.” The men grumbled among themselves, several of them nodding. “I like to think I am not one of them.”

“You dress like one of them.”

Snow used the steep hill to stand. She doubted she could outrun any of them, but if she found a chance she would try.

“I dress like myself, normally.” She stared down at the blue velvet gown, with its overblown skirt and heavy underskirts. “Had I tumbled at your feet any other day, you would hardly know me from the girls in the village.”

“Doubtful.” It wasn’t completely encouraging, but as least the single word didn’t carry the anger of his accusations. Perhaps she was getting through—

“Highness!” The shout was still distant, but closer.

Snow closed her eyes. Her fate had just been sealed.

~*~

Excerpt from The Barricades

Casey Bowman walked toward the tall, iron fence that created the barricades, and the edge of her tiny world.

The wide field that stretched between the city boundaries and the fence had been cleared to keep people from rushing the guard towers. That wasn’t an issue anymore—the towers had been unguarded since she was a little girl. When, her mom said, the mortals gave up the struggle, and gave in to Eternal rule.

After years of waiting for the planet surface to be terraformed, and more years of body breaking labor, her grandparents, along with hundreds of other workers, had built a gorgeous city. One they were all meant to live in.

But before the mortals could step through the front gates, the powerful Eternals tossed them out, banished them to what had been the temporary accommodations—on the other side of the wide swath of land ravaged by the terraforming equipment, and the years of building.

The wasteland.

They had fought back, hard enough to warrant guard towers, deadly consequences for attempting to escape, and bribes of enough gold for men to turn on their own. The rebellion had been gradually beaten into submission, through the most effective means possible: slowly starving out the rebels.

Even years after they had finally given in to the Eternals, Casey couldn’t remember a time when there was enough food on the table for more than two or three meals in a row, or when their water ration hadn’t run out before the end of the day.

She pushed the unwanted thoughts out of her mind, and the memories they stirred up. With a sigh, she stopped at the fence, leaned against it, and stretched one arm out past the bars. The air felt cooler, softer somehow. Here, she could finally breathe—

“Casey! Where are you?”

Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the iron bar for a long moment, then turned around and called out. “I’m here, Alli.”

Her little sister appeared between the ramshackle warehouse buildings, green eyes wide when she spotted Casey. She scurried across the open ground like there were guards still perched above her, out of breath by the time she skidded to a halt. “What are you doing? You can’t come this close to the barricade, they’ll see you—”

“Who, Alli? There’s no one here anymore.” She gestured to the dilapidated guard towers. “No attempt to improve our lives, no rebellion, not for years. Only apathy.”

Alli sucked in a panicked breath. “Don’t talk like that! The guards’ll take you away, and I’ll never see you again.” She clutched Casey’s arm. “Promise me you won’t say those things ever again.”

“I’m just a kid. No one listens to kids.” Gently, she loosened her sister’s grip, and smiled down at her. “I won’t say those things, I promise. At least, not in front of someone who might pay attention.”

“Don’t tease me, Casey. And you can’t test them like that. Just because the guards don’t stand watch anymore doesn’t mean they’re not around. They listen to everyone, whether you believe that or not.”

“I’m always careful, pipsqueak.” The nickname pulled a smile from Alli, just as Casey intended. Looking back out at the open space beyond the bars, she let out a sigh. “I just need to touch the sky once in a while, and I can’t do that surrounded by buildings. Here there’s nothing, nothing but…”

Her voice faded as movement caught her attention. Out near the dead trees—a glint from the setting sun, a flash of color, and—

“Oh, no.” Heart pounding, she moved to the wide spot in the bars and slung her school bag over her shoulder. “Stay here, Alli. Better yet, go home. Now.”

“Casey, what—” She let out a shriek when Casey slipped between the iron bars. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t follow me.”

She ran toward the huddle of color, and still yards out, her fears were confirmed.

It was a body.

~*~

Excerpt from Last Chance Jack

Michael appeared in the guardian’s waiting room—just before the bell that would have warned Jack of his impending arrival.

Dread slithered in Jack’s gut as he stood and faced the archangel. If Michael took it on himself to deliver the news personally, that news was going to be bad.

Michael studied him for an endless moment, then finally spoke. “You have been given a reprieve.” Jack closed his eyes, relief washing through him. “But this will be your last chance, Jack.”

“Last chance Jack.” He smiled. “It sounds like a country song.” His smile faded as Michael simply gazed at him, blue eyes cold. “That was a joke—right, never mind.”

Michael never did understand the concept of joking. The unbending, humorless archangel considered it a human flaw.

When that archangel cleared his throat, Jack knew he was irritated. An easy tell, one Jack picked up on during their first encounter.

“You have been here nearly a century, Jack. I extended your time because you gave your life to save a life. A child’s life. But I can no longer offer excuses for your failures. If you do not complete this assignment, your destiny is out of my hands.”

“Which means what—I fail this time and I’m thrown into Hell?” When Michael kept silent, Jack knew he hit it on the head. His past had finally caught up with him. Swallowing, he ran one hand through his hair. “Where am I going?”

“To someone who needs your help.” Michael was full of information, as usual. “Follow the rules this time, Jack—all of them. As this is your last chance, you are also bound by the rules of a final assignment.”

“Can you refresh my memory on those?”

Michael sighed, shook his head. “You will remember what you need. You have three days.”

“What?” Jack stared at him. “I can barely fill in their history in three days—never mind figure out what I’m supposed to—”

“And that has always been your shortcoming.” Michael crossed his arms, irritated bumping up to annoyed. “You spend too much time, and they become—attached. Extricating you causes difficulties, on both sides. The time limit was set for your own good.” Those cold blue eyes studied him. “Are you ready?”

“What—now?”

Temper flared in the archangel’s eyes. Temper only Jack seemed to pull out of him.

“Yes.” Michael clapped his hands, and with no warning the floor disappeared.

Jack fell—and he realized, when he didn’t slow down, didn’t begin the gradual drop that was the normal routine, his tumble to earth would be just that.

Not a good start.

Michael’s voice followed after him. “One small detail, Jack. She will not be able to see you—unless you find a way to reach her.”

And isn’t that just perfect?

Jack closed his eyes and braced himself for a painful landing.

~*~