It seemed like the best weapons in my life had always been the most innocuous: empty plastic bins, a blank CD, an unmarked syringe, my smile in a dark room.
I’m bored. I need to be entertained. Sam is moping. I may kill him with his own guitar. It would give me something to do and also make him say something. Two birds with one stone!
How long it takes us, each day, to know each other.
The boy had my wolf’s eyes.
Then I picked my book back up again and stroked her hair and read to the soundtrack of her breaths.
Nothing had changed. Nothing.
It wasn’t a touch that said I need more. It was a touch that said I want this.
When Ronan thought of Gansey, he thought of moving into Monmouth Manufacturing, of nights spent in companionable insomnia, of a summer searching for a king, of Gansey asking the Gray Man for his life. Brothers.
His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch’s dreams, and his mother was just another one of them.
There was no other sound in the world like a car crash.
The big thing in my family growing up is that everybody had to play a musical instrument. We were like the von Trapps.
The way Gansey saw it was this: if you had a special knack for finding things, it meant you owed the world to look.
There was something unbearably sexy about cars at night, Ronan thought. The way the fenders twisted the light and reflected the road, the way every driver became anonymous. The sight of them knocked his heartbeat askew.
Calla readjusted, wrapping the silk around her other thigh instead. “Which one’s he again? The pretty one?” Blue and Gansey exchanged a look. Blue’s look said, I’m so, so sorry. Gansey’s said, Am I the pretty one?
I can tell you that as a writer and as a reader, I regard character as king. Or queen. No matter how riveting the action or interesting the plot twists, if I don’t feel like I’m meeting someone who feels real, I’m not going to be compelled to read further.
I adore book-to-film adaptations when they’re done well, and I’m more lenient than many readers when it comes to what counts as ‘done well.’ For me, the most important thing is that the film maintains the spirit of the original book.
That was a weird thought. My straight-up mother being bothered by faeries? Delia was even weirder. I could picture the scene. Faerie: Come away, human. Delia: Why? Faerie: Untold delights and youth forever. Delia: I’m holding out for a better offer. Ta.
Mum liked to say that some things happen for a reason, that sometimes obstacles were there to stop you from doing something stupid.
Would we be so enamored with dystopian fiction if we lived in a culture where violent death was a major concern? It wouldn’t be escapism.
I’m sorry no one saved you.