Sometimes the monsters are real, Anita. Sometimes they’re real and the only way to defeat them is to be the bigger monster.? – Chang Bibi to Anita.
Don’t ask,” Micah said. “They’ve been best friends for years. Sometimes you just nod and let them have their guy moment.” Dr. Cross frowned harder. “I don’t understand.” “I’m the wife,” Micah said, “she’s the husband, and he’s the husband’s best friend. Does that explain it?
Monsters Beware Here Be Dragons.
Surely there must be something massive enough to damage even a vampire beyond healing. I hoped someday to test the theory. I.
Why do you borrow such sorrows when they are far away, and I am right here?
He said, softly, “Sorry, Jimmy.” He still didn’t cry. I would have cried. But then, women have more chemicals in their tear ducts. It makes us tear up easier than men. Honest.
Speaking as one of your minions,” Larry called from the back seat, “are you sure you’re not the one who’s overconfident?” Jean-Claude glanced back at him. “Serephina was centuries old when I met her. The limit of a vampire’s powers is well established after two or three centuries. I know her limits, Lawrence.” “Stop calling me Lawrence. The name’s Larry.” Jean-Claude sighed. “You have trained him well.” “He came that way,” I said. “Pity.” Jean-Claude.
Let’s pretend it is a threat, because you need to understand that the other officers aren’t keeping me safe from you; they’re keeping you safe from me.
There had been two dates between us. Mistake. It made working together more awkward, and he couldn’t cope with me being a female version of him. He had this old southern idea of what a lady should be. A lady should not carry a gun and spend most of her time covered in blood and corpses. I had two words for that attitude. Yeah, those are the words. There.
I was hungry, and the corn dogs smelled good. Should I eat first or accuse the Master of the City of murder? Choices, choices. I.
He looked a little surprised, as if he’d expected an argument. But I was all out of argument tonight. He could have the bed. I’d take the couch. What could be more innocent? Biker Nuns from Hell, but besides that.
He raised the sheet in front of his chest, an almost protective gesture. “It comes.” Fear in his voice. “What comes?” “The sun.” I glanced at the closed drapes against the far wall. They were double thick, but a line of greyish light edged them. “You’ll be alright like this without your coffin?” “As long as no one opens the drapes.” He looked at me for a long moment. “I love you, ma petite, as much as I’m able.” I.
We all build upon our ruins.
We lose too many people that way, both male and female. Twenty-two combat veterans die every day in the United States alone from suicide, and it isn’t just soldiers who have just come home from their tours of duty. There is no statute of limitations on nightmares and depression. With numbers like that, we need to start talking to one another more.
Silence is not a lie. A sin of omission, but not a lie.
I enjoy killing people with you. Could that count as a date?” I shook my head. “No, nothing illegal counts.” He sighed. “Dating is harder than I thought it would be.” “Always,” I said.
If what I felt had been an actual wound, I’d have been bleeding to death.
The sight of him all aglow did make me catch my breath. He would always be beautiful. No amount of hatred could take that away from him. But beauty wasn’t enough, not enough by half.
Powerful and paranoid – it was a recipe for royalty.
Your first lover gets a piece of your heart until you have enough therapy to take it back.
No, but if something smells this good, or tastes amazing, then we were taught to honor it with our attention. It’s like a compliment to the Creator for all the wonderful ingredients that came together to make something.