Library Egg Harbor Novels & Stories

"The network extends beyond Manhattan. It reaches under all five boroughs, into New Jersey, and as far north as Westchester. The Engraver has been carving a gateway the size of the entire metropolitan area." Jack stopped walking. "That is twenty thousand square miles." "Approximately. And the crystallized time lattice is getting denser the closer you get to the egg. Whatever is in that egg, the Engraver has been building it a cradle the size of a city for sixty-five million years."

Lillian turned on the spot and vanished. She appeared on the steps number 13 Englewood Drive, a modest two storey building that she called home for the last 10 year. A house which had special charms placed on it that if she did suddenly appear by the front door, none of her neighbours would notice. Keeping a low profile was fundamental even more so now that she had her goddaughter to protect. “Welcome to your new home, Lena”, she said to the infant as she entered the house, the door swinging shut behind her.

The "Sparrow" sub didn’t so much dock as it did collapse into the Hangar Cradle (a magnetic docking station designed to catch damaged vessels) of the Aegis Refuge. This wasn't the jagged, cold architecture of the Trench. The Refuge was a "Safe-Haven"—a pressurized dome hidden inside a dormant volcanic vent, where the water was naturally warmed and the walls were lined with a soft, bioluminescent moss that absorbed the Background Radiation (the lingering energy from the Isotope) and turned it into a calming amber light.

Not once during the second month did Eve feel that she needed to punish her servant. Two weekends after the hiking trip to Thunder Mountain, Officer Eve Bousquet took her servant to the last major town of the Island that she had not yet seen. The place was called Safe Harbor and it was the oldest settlement on Santa Eduviges, founded in 1573 by the Spanish and re-named in 1799 by the British. Among other tourist attractions, Safe Harbor boasted a restored 19th Century schooner and a French fort.

Elias said. "Ten," Damien corrected. "If you keep the revs above three thousand." They didn't speak again until the gravel road gave way to the broken concrete of the secondary fuel dock. The harbor was completely dead behind them now, the five-story iron frame of the shipping tower rising out of the mist like the skeleton of a whale that had died in the mud before the canal was dug.

The fog on the East River was thick enough to swallow a fleet. I stood on the deck of the Aethelgard, a refurbished research vessel that served as a mobile, offshore server farm. The air smelled of salt and the metallic tang of high-powered cooling fans. Somewhere behind the grey curtain of the morning, the Sterling Tower was vibrating itself to death, but here, the only sound was the slap of dark water against the hull. ​My phone buzzed on the railing. It wasn't a call. It was a formal service of process, delivered digitally via an encrypted Sterling Tech portal.

“There’s a magical door at the end of the runway. If you want to break it, you’re welcome to try.” After a moment of thinking, I replied, “Too risky, too many unknowns.” “Well, there is another way out. There’s a port in the middle tunnel. We were kept there long before they moved us here.” “A port?” “Yes, from what I’ve heard,” he explained, “the Eagles have been using it to transport supplies through the rivers. I couldn’t find the exit. Perhaps it’s magically shut. Although I did notice the water has a running current, there must be an underwater tunnel linked directly to the river nearby. After studying the current’s distance and speed, it’d take thirty seconds for us to reach Hammerhorn

The kind that fell in a whisper, soft but continuous. The Harbor’s Meet was a stretch of abandoned dockland. The cranes looming like skeletons against the gray sky. The water was black and still, reflecting nothing. It was a floating market as people called it. “This place gives me the creeps,” Harley muttered, clutching her coat tighter. “Then it’s perfect,” Ezra said. “He always did like theatrics.” “Always?” I glanced at him. “How would you know that?” Ezra’s jaw flexed. “You think you’re the only one who’s met Leo before?”

My legs buckled when I was told that they'd fished the body of Christopher Quinton from the sea. My knees smashed into the gravel beneath my feet because I knew he'd have survived if he hadn't tried to save me. Three days later, I dealt with all the enemies and became the demoness of Porton's elite circle. Five years later, the pier business expanded considerably. However, I kept the scar on my arm as a memento to remind me of him. It had been five years since he died, exactly five years. I bought a bottle of herbicide in an attempt to take my own life. Then, I saw the supposedly dead Christopher proposing to my best friend, Zoe Shaw. I saw all my underlings congratulate them. I froze for

The subterranean silence of the Nest was punctuated by the rhythmic, low-frequency hum of the servers. Julian leaned over the console, his sapphire eyes tracing the glowing vectors of the harbor’s security grid. The port of Blackwood wasn't just a collection of shipping containers and cranes; it was a sprawling, automated labyrinth of sensors, facial recognition cameras, and automated defensive turrets that acted as the primary gateway for the Vanguard’s illicit high-tech imports.