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There are lots of things in the folklore, like they can only be killed by a silver bullet, that don't realistically work, if you're trying to say they have existed for hundreds of years, unknown.
Kelley Armstrong
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Kelley Armstrong
Age: 56
Born: 1968
Born: December 14
Novelist
Writer
city of Sudbury
Sarah
Years
Existed
Things
Hundreds
Like
Silver
Unknown
Killed
Realistically
Lots
Folklore
Trying
Bullet
Work
Bullets
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You bat your baby blues at tall, dark, and gruesome, and next thing you know, he's trailing you like a lost puppy.
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I'd been staring at the search term for at least five minutes. One word. Necromancer.
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Oh my God. You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong. He gave me a sidelong smile. Maybe it's not that kind of hunting. Then you're definitely doing it wrong.
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It's because when we sneeze, our soul flies out our nose and if no one says 'bless you,' the devil can snatch it.
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Isn't it possible that I'm not feigning interest? That I really do want to know more about you? You've never been interested in me before. You've never been interesting before. -Cassandra and Paige
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I saw my true power. The darkest power. The greatest power. ~Jaime Vegas
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...in some ways I relied on that- someone to keep me thinking, keep me striving to do better, keep me from burying my head and praying it all worked out.
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He's having a vision, I said. That's what happens. (Maya) Attractive, I know, Corey said between gritted teeth. And now I get new witnesses to my humiliation. Wonderful. We're used to it, Chloe said. Derek used to do that when he Changed. Only worse. Thank you for sharing, Derek muttered. She grinned. You're welcome.
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I lifted onto my toes, put my hands aroung his neck, and pulled him down. When our lips met, that first jolt... It was everything I hadn't felt with Simon, everything I wanted to feel. His hands went around my waist, pulling me closer--
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Derek? Derek!-Chole Chole! what are you doing out here? i said we will check it out later. key word WE-Derek oh, yeah I decided to come out on my own. thats why i was calling your name repeatively- Chole
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We’re not naked, we’re skyclad!
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What's the woman doing there? he asked. Covering a scratch on the hood. She was cheaper than a new paint job. He flipped through a few more pages of barely dressed women and classic cars. Nick used to have magazines like this when we were kids. But without the cars. He rotated a photo sideways. Or the bathing suits.
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We had one gun, one werewolf, one poltergeist, one supercharged spell-caster, one not-so-supercharged spell-caster, and one perfectly useless necromancer, though Liz was quick to remind me that she needed me to relay her words. - Chloe
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Lavina led me to an abandoned warehouse. I think that at some point someone decreed that all clandestine meetings must be held in one. Woe to the criminal overlord who lives in a city thriving with commerce, with no empty warehouses to be found. He probably needs to build one, just to have a place to arrange late-night meetings. (Bewitched)
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Antonio- Just in time, Pete. Five more minutes of reading this and she'd have been in a coma. Peter- Are we such bad company that you'd rather hide out in here reading that old thing?
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After the woman left, I set my coffee down and opened the bag. Two muffins-double-chocolate and blueberry bran. I texted Adam a thank-you. I’d just started eating the chocolate muffin when he texted backPut that one down and eat the bran. It’s better foryou.
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The secretary moved in to block Simon as I followed Thierry into the office. As the door closed, I heard her whisper, I think it's very sweet, you sticking up for your brother like that. I'm not trying to be sweet, Simon said, raising his voice so Thierry could hear. I'm trying to be fair. But apparently no one's interested in that.
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When I leaned a little too close to the doorway, my inner voice piped up, telling me not to be stupid. The guy with the bionic senses was better equipped for this.
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Oh, my God! It's a killer Pomeranian. I glanced up at Derek. It's a tough call, but I think you can take him.
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I hear voices. A shout. A laugh. Clay's laugh. I strained to see through the night. Fog had rolled in from Lake Ontario, but I could hear him laughing. The concrete turned to grass. The fog wasn't from the lake, but from a pond. Our pond. I was at Stonehaven, bounding through the back acres. Clay was running ahead of me.
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