![]() ![]() ![]() How mortifying.Īt last, blessed air filtered through. ![]() They had to start working at some point, right? Bright spots danced before my eyes and I could just see my obituary: Tragedy Strikes During Soccer. But why was I looking at the sky? Maybe it was connected to my sudden inability to breathe. I braced for impact.Īnd then I marveled at the clear blue autumn sky. The girl I was supposed to cover (a creature so hulking I swear she was a troll) charged toward me, steam practically flowing from her nostrils. We were playing soccer-without shin guards. Why had I ever wanted this? What was I thinking? Working at the International Paranormal Containment Agency might have been close to indentured servitude, and sure, I had some nasty run-ins with vampires and hags and creeptastic faeries, but that was nothing compared to the danger I faced now. My hand twitched at my side, reaching for the pink Taser I knew wasn't there. I was going to die a horrible, gruesome, painful death. ![]()
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