prince
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He arrived at Portree on the Isle of Skye and found a rather welcoming lady that was only too happy to have a visitor willing to pay for a stay at the tiny house that was the town’s hotel. He was able to borrow her landline to call a Dr Dubhe McCloude, native to Isle…
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Corbin swept his papers to the side of the lab table. “What did you find?” Sophia asked as she tidied up the papers, shoving them into their respective files. For the life of him, he couldn’t quite figure out why Sophia’s desk could be a complete disaster zone, but she insisted on filing his papers.
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“I just wish that you could actually get this thing to go into the future. I want to know that the chry-chambers stay fully functional all the way through the trip,” Sophia grouched. It had been a full two years since Corbin’s offer, and since the War began. Drought had set in after the destruction…
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Dinner was lavish, as to be expected of Mrs Stiner. She had been the top reigning chef of a lead New York French restaurant in her day. She was a little disgruntled, though, to find no one enjoying their meal as much as she. Miss Teslanoviach was staring at her square plate like it was…
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He paced the study of his house. Books lined cherry shelves and his desk was overcrowded with papers and electronics. He had sent his maid up to check on the woman. What had possessed him to intervene was beyond him. A simple trip was all he wanted. He had gone to see the beginnings of…
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She sat rigidly in her chair, her second hand corset pinching at her ribs. This was not comfortable in the least. What had ever possessed her to go from her folks farm in Kansas to Manhattan of all places was beyond her now.
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“You got a glitch?” Marjorta grabbed Fane by the shoulders to steady him.
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Fane and Ajay stood in the hallway with Zahar, Chaitan and the other bodyguards for the royal family. The King, having answered to Chaitan’s knock and noting the congregation of men waiting on their charges, closed the door in their faces, telling them that it was private business amongst the family.
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Slime. Sludge. A black inky depth loomed beneath him. Grey tentacles reached out from the infinite oblivion, grasping for him. A hideous odour of rotting fish and fermented fruit permeated his senses. Screeching, like that of thousands of people dying in fire, grated at his ears. An air raid siren pierced through the terror. It…
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Stepping out of the sliding doors, a blast of dry heat swamped Fane. The glaring sun sparkled on the cityscape. He shielded his eyes, waiting for them to adjust. A line of hover-cabs sat idling in the loop. The roar of engines signaled another plane’s departure.
Chapel Orahamm 