Quote

Married pixy, I told myself, forcing my eyes back to the shelf of ceramic animals. Fifty-four kids. Beautiful wife, sweet as sugar, who would kill me in my sleep while apologizing for it.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 59
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Sleep
Fifty
Eyes
Animals
Ceramic
Four
Kill
Ceramics
Eye
Married
Shelf
Beautiful
Sweet
Forcing
Kids
Told
Apologizing
Back
Wife
Shelves
Would
Animal
Sugar

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I won’t snatch, harm, or scare to death people with you or use checking up on you as an excuse to cause trouble. You’re worse than my mother, Rachel.” “Mine, too,” Jenks muttered.
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People die, Rachel, Ceri said, her cheeks flushing. Not if I can help it, I snapped. And not of a broken heart. If you could, I'd be dead already.
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His eyes met mine at the soft touch, and a chime seemed to shake the ley line, realigning the universe. He was mine.
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We all watched Al open the door. Turning, he waved to us, then passed the threshold. The door shut behind him. I waited for something to happen. Nothing did. “This isn’t good,” Quen said. I choked back my burst of laughter, knowing it would come out sounding hysterical.
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Rose to Rachel: You cry you get angry then you do something about it.
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Who’s going to keep them from wiping us out species by species? Not me. We aren’t prepared for a new demographic of magic-using humans who are sadistic, power hungry, don’t like Inderlanders, and see genocide as an acceptable form of communication.
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Numb, I took the perfectly browned puff. Okay. Let me see if I have this right. Al provokes me into defending myself. I nearly kill him. Then Newt tries to kill me, thinking I'm Ku'Sox. Al stops her, saving my life. And now we're all going to have s'mores together?
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Come on, Rachel! Jenks shrilled. You're a badass, not a bad witch!
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I sighed. I hated the maze of bureaucracy with a passion, but I've found the best way to deal with it is to smile and act stupid. That way, no one gets confused.
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The car picked up speed, and the sound seemed to lull me.I could relax, I thought as I felt the tingling of circulation in my limbs. I was in Trent’s car, wrapped in a blanket, and held in his arms. He wouldn’t let anything hurt me. He wasn’t singing, though,I mused.Shouldn’t he be singing?
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I said school starts tomorrow. I didn’t say I was going to be there.
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Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.
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if I’d been hit with the same thing as Glenn, I probably had his doctor. The thought seemed about right when Glenn shrank back in his chair with a guilty expression. The tomato, too, was in hiding somewhere. I didn’t want to know where. I truly didn’t.
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Being poor is not an indication of potential or worth. It’s a lack of resources.
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