Harry, she said. What if we can’t find out who is doing it in time? We’ll find them, I said. But if we don’t? Then we fight monsters. Murphy took a deep breath and nodded as we stepped out into the su...
Got to die of something, Giraldi observed. Might as well put back a few pints while you wait to see what it is.
Goodness, think of what trouble they’d be in if Folly hadn’t practiced.
Get out of the way, Mavra. Or don’t get out of the way. If you try to stop us from leaving, if you try to hurt anyone under my protection, you’ll be dealing with a Wizard of the Council, a Knight of t...
Gandalf never had this kind of problem. He had exactly this problem, actually, standing in front of the hidden Dwarf door to Moria. Remember when…
Freaking manipulative faeries, I
Five white candles surrounded my summoning circle, the points of an invisible pentacle. White for protection. And because they’re the cheapest color at Wal-Mart.
Every relationship ended. Sometimes it ended voluntarily with a break-up or an affair. Sometimes it ended with death. Only the lucky ones died together. Everyone else had to suffer through being a sur...
Every potion has eight parts. One part is a base liquid to hold the others and provide a medium for mixing. Five parts are symbolically linked to each of the five senses. One is similarly linked to th...
Describing something helps to define it, to give it limits, to set guardrails of understanding around it.
Could just be Chicago. Which can be just as scary as Mab, some days.
Could a man's heart, his soul, perish and yet leave him walking and talking as if alive?
Chicago is an alien citadel, a source of power and terror. Mordor, basically. (One does not simply walk into Mordor - except that was exactly what everyone in the story did anyway.)
But, as it turned out, hell got up awfully early in the morning.
But even the tough, capable centurions gave Marcus speculative glances, as if seeking out his thoughts on their predicament. Marcus returned the glances with nothing but crisp salutes, letting them se...
Bosun! Aye, skipper? Reinforce the mainmast, hang out all the laundry, and warn the witchmen! Let’s make the old bitch fly!
Books were expensive, as well. But she’d read enough of them to know that they were only as valuable as the contents of their writers’ minds—and to her it seemed that a great many writers, had they be...
Be.
At the end of the day . . . some son of a bitch had freaking killed me.That’s not the kind of thing you can just let stand.
Any time I’m not shooting my mouth off to a clichéd, two-bit creature of the night like you, it’s because I’m up to something.