Drew missed Peter when he left, but it was like missing a hole.
We would have wanted you to like us. We realise now that we probably would have failed.
If she needed him, he’d be there instantly, no questions asked, and he knew she’d do the same. She was here now. They had their bulgogi. This is what a family was. Or should be.
Yes,’ said Jasper, flatly, ’and it was very illuminating. It is, perhaps, less illuminating now.
Probably for the best, though. Turns out New World’s oceans aren’t really for fishing.” “Why not?” “Oh, the fish are the size of your boat and they swim up alongside and look you in the eye and tell you how they’re going to eat you.” She laughs a little. “And then they eat you.
But here, now, again, this was more than the body, or the mind, or the personality. It wasn’t holy, that was a whole other mess, but it was something that could be touched only here.
That is what death is, a state of constant hunger, for the things you’ve left behind, for your memories, for life.
Not one of them lifting a hand to save theirselves from what’s coming, hoping if they’re meek enough, if they’re weak enough, then the monster won’t eat ’em.
But then she thinks, feels, reaches out, and knowing exactly what blame is – a human construct, one of its blackest and more selfish and self-blinding – she can find further strands of it, emanating in all directions, for blame is something that is shared but denied in equal measure.
Soothe your throats. Injustice has not followed you here.
A few of you are here by choice. Or at least by Switzerland.
I knew it,” Conor grumbled. “These kinds of stories always have stupid princes falling in love.
She was reading a book on his pad, he saw, her strange attraction to the written words of his people still unabated, still amazed at how anyone could pack so much of themselves into lines on a page. It was a reduction, as she saw it, when expansion seemed so much more natural. And yet here she was again, spending time decoding a language not her own.
The past always fails those who grasp at it.
The fact that she was a young female with Noise was enough to stun him for a moment. Human women didn’t have it, of course, something that had caused no end of difficulty, given how eager humans were to be outraged about difference.
Her settlement, for example, were peaceable and as the calls to war had remained voluntary, they had held back, hoping it would pass. Nevertheless, they had cursed her for wanting to leave with him, telling her of the atrocities committed by his people out in the west. They had turned their backs on her in disgust when she told them he was a person, not a whole people.
Albert got her to her feet. He gathered her few wayward things and delicately placed a hand on an unburnt spot to help her walk. – You’re going to have this two-tone problem for a while. Your backside is as white as virgin pearl. – A moan will have to suffice for a witty rejoinder. – I’ll pretend to be dazzled.
Conor shook his head. “That’s a terrible story. And a cheat.” It is a true story, the monster said. Many things that are true feel like a cheat. Kingdoms get the princes they deserve, farmers’ daughters die for no reason, and sometimes witches merit saving. Quite often, actually. You’d be surprised. Conor.
He had loved Enzo. Loved him. And who cared if it was the love of a fifteen – and then a sixteen-year-old. Why did that make any less? They were older than those two idiots in Romeo and Juliet. Why did everyone no longer a teenager automatically dismiss any feeling you had then? Who cared if he’d grow out of it? That didn’t make it any less true in those painful and euphoric days when it was happening. The truth was always now, even if you were young. Especially if you were young.
I have had as many names as there are years to time itself! roared the monster. I am Herne the Hunter! I am Cernunnos! I am the eternal Green Man!