Tepeu

 "Come on, Morgan, can't we be friends?" Mitchell asked. The brunette waitress shot him brief a look that clearly said she wanted anything but as she leaned across the table in front of her, wiping it down with a wet rag. "Sure, Mitch," she said, sliding a bottle of ketchup out of her way, "we can be friends. But that's it. Just friends." Her washrag halted in its progress across the table as she felt one of his hands on the small of her back and smelled the beer on his warm breath as he muttered into her ear, "But we both know how that'd end up, don't we?" Of course she knew. She remembered how it had been. She had worked at Schleicher'

Katie gave the cafeteria a sweeping glance, catching sight of two of her friends sitting at a table off to one side, speaking to each other confidentially. Adjusting her grip on her tray, she set off toward them. "That's so sweet," she said, setting her plate of food onto the table and dropping herself into an empty chair across from the two boys. "You two finally came out of the closet!" The boys exchanged glances and continued eating without responding to her jibe, used to her jokes. Kevin gave her a flat stare as he chewed his mouthful of chicken before dropping the remnants of the drumstick back onto his plate. "Don't you have to go into

Cameron Raley was exceptionally good at counting cards, if he did say so himself. It was one of the few things he excelled at. He could count cards both effectively and discreetly – he could make a killing in Vegas without the Eye in the Sky taking any notice. The secret, he often told his friends, was to throw in a few bad wagers from time to time, to throw the pit boss off the scent, but never – never – lose the count. He eyed the cards on the table in front of him. Queen, plus two. Four, minus one. Five, minus one. Jack, plus two. Seven, minus one. He lifted his glass of gin and tonic from the table and took a sip, eyes sti

NIL ILLEGITIMI CARBORUNDUM The living room of a small apartment. Empty beer cans are scattered around on nearly all available surfaces. Nick is asleep on a couch. Mitchell, Parker, Morgan, and Whitney are seated around a table playing cards. PARKER. Your deal, Mitch. MITCHELL. I'm getting there. D'you want these shuffled or not? PARKER. Just sayin'. (Mitchell starts to deal the cards.) MITCHELL. So what are we playing? WHITNEY. Looks like you're dealing for idiot. Let's just play that. MORGAN. I hate idiot. MITCHELL. There's always spades. We've got enough people. MORGAN. Whitney doesn't know how to play. MITCHELL. She can learn. Sh

 If there was one thing Maleficent couldn't stand, it was idiocy. As she watched the rabble before her as they bickered and argued among themselves, she wondered absently why she had come out of exile. Certainly not for this. She was the Mistress of All Evil, and this was what she got – petty sorcerers and magicians, each trying to outdo the others with outdated potions and hexes? It was unbearable. A squat woman with a shock of violet hair was curtsying in front of her. "Mistress," she said, "I am the Marvelous-" Maleficent promptly stopped listening to the woman. Anyone who prefaced their name with "marvelous" was typically anythin

Chapter Three Gretchen Taylor and Cade Sabina Gretchen had run before, but never like this. She didn't know how long or how far she had run; she only knew that she couldn't stop – especially not in the open scrubland. Her heart was pounding in her chest; her breath was coming in short, labored gasps; her lungs were starving for air. She could see Cade ahead of her. He glanced over his shoulder and held out an arm to her. She reached for it, missed, and tried a second time, her hand firmly clamping down on his wrist. She felt her pace quicken as he pulled her along, urging her faster, faster. If they could just make it to the cover of t

 It was not until Naveen felt his grip on Refreshment Table Girl's arm slipping and the two of them went tumbling down the hill that he realized something was very, very wrong. Once he had come to a rest at the bottom of the hill, mere inches from having landed in the boggy swamp, he examined his hands. Despite the dim light, it was obvious that his hands were not their usual shade of cinnamon brown. Whether or not they were green was debatable in the dark – but they were most certainly not the colour they were meant to be. He shook his hands in the air to try and return them to their normal hue, and strings of slime – mucus –

The night had, much to Naveen's dismay, ended later rather than sooner, and after several more long hours of feasting and dancing, he bade Charlotte La Bouff a good night and then dragged himself and his aching feet back to the chateau. Gaston was nowhere to be seen, but Naveen was too exhausted to care; the Frenchman was probably rescuing his Belle from the clutches of that hideous Beast if he had not done so already. Hardly bothering to undress, Naveen collapsed into his bed and fell asleep. He woke the next morning feeling not at all rested. His dreams had been vivid and haunting, dominated by the colour green and malicious, grinning f

Upon entering the ballroom, several things became quickly apparent to Naveen. First, Gaston had not been exaggerating when he had called Belle's captor a beast – that hulking, furred thing in the corner could be nothing else. Second, the Frenchman had been accurate in saying that Belle's name suited her well; if Naveen was correct in assuming the pretty brunette in the arms of the Beast was his friend's beloved, she certainly was among the prettiest of the women. And third, sketchy street corners were not the best places to pick up dates; he really felt that he ought to have known this all along, but it was too late for that now. Esm

Naveen bared his teeth at himself in the mirror, closely examining his pearly whites as they gleamed in the light streaming in through the window, turning his face first one way and then the other to ensure they were of a satisfactory whiteness. "So," he said around a finger he had jammed into his mouth to pick at a bit of plaque, "remind me again who it is you know that's going to the coronation?" The burly, dark-haired man behind him rocked his chair onto its back legs and spat into a nearby potted plant. "Well," he began, and Naveen knew he had asked the wrong question. He had heard Gaston's tale of misery and woe several times before, an