Writing is like a sport - you only get better if you practice

Beckendorf, whose legs were now working fine (nothing like being chased by a huge monster to get your body back in order) shook his head and gasped for breath. “You shouldn’t have turned it on! It’s unstable! After a few years, automatons go wild!

I looked back, but Bast and Sadie seemed fine. They were still staring at the water as if it were some amazing Internet video.

Fighting giants was one thing. Bacchus making into a game was something else.

Son of Poseidon? East asked. I nodded. Took a dip in the Styx? Hudson asked. Yep. They made digusted sounds. Well that's perfect East said. Now how do we kille him?

I wanted to keep things as normal as possible for the trainees, so I led my usual morning class. I called it Magic Problem-Solving 101. The trainees called it Whatever Works.

You set us up!” “No! I swear—” Her face fell. “Mel. Mel must’ve told him.” “Right,” I grumbled. “Blame Mel.