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Bummer he wasn't in the right mind. “Idiots.” Damion hissed darting out into the night. No doubt already hunting down an innocent creature out of spite. He was just a bloodthirsty killer. Even I have boundaries I never crossed. Looking down at the girl. Her blonde hair was tangled from the floor yet she still remained cold. Her power probably had something to do with that. For all I know she could always be cold. Eric rubbed his hands together, opening a portal to the dreadful castle. “This will be such fun.” His cheery voice was still sharp leaving me stung.

I did my best to take care not to scratch the leather, but when it fell into my arms, I noticed what looked like a fresh dig. Books were not as common in that era as they were in the future so I felt bad about causing damage to it. My lamenting lasted only briefly. An intense curiosity took over just as soon as I realized that it was a journal. It was not just any journal, either. This journal belonged to the late Elsbeth Sleuth. Could the deep, dark family secret be discovered within its pages? I simply had to find out. Lowering myself into a comfy nearby chair, I opened to the first page and focused on the elaborate handwriting. It took some time to familiarize myself with her dramat

Save me! As if to answer my desperate prayer, a female figure covered with a light aura emerged from the liquid and floated in front of me. From her long flowy hair to her bare feet, she's covered with light. She turns to face me just as my face was almost covered with black liquid. Touching my forehead, she whispers some words, and just like that the black liquid vanishes... leaving me kneeling on the ground? A ground materialized out of nowhere, covered with green grass and colorful flowers. I turn to look at the 'light' lady when I caught her staring at me with sadness in her gentle eyes.

“Only because it’s an emergency.” Elmo rubbed his eyes, and blinked away fatigue. As his vision cleared he found himself looking at Lucas’ bookshelf, and his heart sank as he surveyed the spines of books his friend loved so much. There were copies of The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, The Three Investigators and The Secret Seven, as well as modern mystery thrillers by authors such as Lee Child and James Patterson. But there were also older novels that Elmo recalled as movies on TCM but had never read. He saw Treasure Island and Ivanhoe, Tom Sawyer and Robinson Crusoe.

A medium-weight blanket that could survive the dryer and didn’t care about spills. On my way to the register I remembered the conversation we’d had at the diner about books and the way her eyes had lit sideways when she mentioned a mystery author. Banks once showed me how to find the public side of a wish list when a pack kid didn’t know how to ask for a birthday gift. I tried the same trick now and felt briefly like a burglar when it pulled up—H. Williams—Books—all paperbacks, nothing flashy, a handful of titles I recognized and two I didn’t. I picked three, then forced myself to stop, because generosity without brakes can feel like pressure. I paid and didn’t look at the total. Wolves coun

he was startled to see Freeda coming down the stairs, walking towards him at the table. "Why are you still awake?" Freeda asked. "I want to know what this book I'm holding," he said and Freeda took the book. "Hmmm..why? can't you read alone?" Freeda asked as she turned the pages of the book. "Do you see anything written there?" Jude noticed that Freeda seemed to see something. "Yeah, do you want me to read this for you?" Freeda said while smiling. Jude was surprised and there he believed that the book he was holding was a mystery. But what she doesn’t understand is why can Freeda see it too?

I couldn’t help but smile. He squinted his eyes at me. “Ah, you know something that I don’t.” “Know what?” My smile widened. “At least, you share my frustration. It’s a good book, right?” “Yes. One of the great books I’ve read.” “I don’t even know if you read.” He smiled sadly. “One thing only a few people know about me, but yeah, I read.” “What’s your genre?” “Thriller, mystery, nonfiction. But Midnight is a mix of—"

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Kelly mentioned that Martin was taking up his master. "Ugh. Stressful." He chuckled. "That's the reason why I work part-time at Aunt Rory's shop. Being surrounded by books and comics relaxes me." I curiously raised my brow. "What's your favorite?" "Mystery books. John Grisham, Agatha Christie, and the likes." He smiled. "But I'm more into comics. I have a collection of Marvel comics in my apartment." My eyes widened in surprise. "You're a Marvel fan?"