Every night, in every Coldtown, people die. People are fragile. They die of mistakes, of overdoses, of sickness. But mostly they die of Death.
Downstairs, Grandad's warning Barron about something. His voice swells, and I catch the words, In my day we were feared. Now we're just afraid.
Do you know what the Turkish say about coffee? It should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love.
Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die.
Christmas is supposed to be this time when everyone is nice to one another and forgives one another and all that, but the true meaning of Christmas is . And in the real world, Santa’s not fair. Rich k...
Carney is like a graveyard where everyone already owns their plots and has built houses on top of them.
Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the ai...
But there's nothing you like better than when it hurts a little, is there? Lucien asked.Gavriel's bloody mouth lifted in a voluptuous smile. Sure there is. I like it when it hurts a lot.
But I didnt do anything wrong.. Which is stupid of course, things dont happen to people because they deserve them.
Boys never believe I can beat them, she told me back then. But I always win in the end.
Because I am about to be devoured by poodles, I quip. Remember me always, my love.
Anyone who offers up their heart on a silver platter deserves what they get.
And you want more holes because you think pain will distract you from all the annoying celebrating? Or because stabbing me will make you feel better?Something like that. She smiled enigmatically, went...
And the single last thing in my head: that I like him better than I've ever liked anyone and that of all the things he's ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.
After all, I’m already a murderer. No one really expects a murderer to stop killing.
You're as cowardly as a g------ weasel. You know that? A . That's what you are.You don't know me, I say, spitting blood onto the dirt. I can't help it. I start to laugh. And you obviously don't know m...
You're a pretty cool customer, huh? says Agent Hunt. I hide my inner pain under my stoic visage. Agent Hunt looks like he would like to put his fist through my stoic visage.
You want me to say something? Okay. Sometimes I think I am what you made me. And sometimes I don’t know who I am at all. And either way I’m not happy.
You really dug your own grave, he mutters. And I’m going to bury you in it. Say that louder, I tell him, under my breath. I dare you.
You okay? Anton asks, looking at me like he's trying to figure out if I'm drunk. His plans depend on me. I look as blank as possible and hope that it freaks him out. No point in my being the only mise...