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Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.
Kim Harrison
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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
People
Lately
Begun
Carrying
Bags
Breath
Breaths
Mints
Pain
Amulets
Like
Mint
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Be reasonable. I know you can be. If you try very, very hard.” - Al to Rachel
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Teens like a lot of the same things adults do: smart people doing amazing things against awful odds.
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She was only a year old, but elves grew up fast. Not like witches, who Jenks swore were not able to be on their own until they were thirty. Ahem.
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Your welcome means more to me, Ivy Alisha Tamwood, than a thousand souls. Watching Rachel work is a wonder of one catastrophe after another.
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Growing up is hard, love. Otherwise everyone would do it.
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Where did he go!” he bellowed, gloved hands clenching. “I had him in a snare that would take Alexander the Great a lifetime to untwist, and he did it in a week!” Al took a step, pinwheeling as his booted heel found an ice cube.
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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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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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We could've done this anywhere, but I wanted you to see me, to see this, he said, gesturing at the room. I wanted you to know where I come from, what I am under the choices I make.
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Good God,” I whispered, sitting on the van’s cot and looking at my legs, horrified. They were hairy—not wolf hairy, but an I-couldn’t-find-my-razor-the-last-six-months hairy. Utterly grossed out, I took a peek at my armpit, jerking away. Oh, that’s just…nasty.
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Do you have a sleeping bag?” I stared at him. “No. I lost it in the great salt-dip of ’06.
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Behind the fury, he was tired. He was tired of being hauled around and shoved into a little room. He was tired of trying for me and failing. And to have Minias know it, to be carted off under his leash…It was almost insulting. Maybe, if I gave Al a night of peace to lick his wounds and his pride, he would grant that same courtesy to me?
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By Tink's diaphram...!
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All I'd have to do then was roll with the consequences of inviting dewinged, fanged fairies into Trent's backyard. God, they were savage looking. Served him right.
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If it was up to me, I’d choose the hard path with the easy ending, not the easy path with the hard end.
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Maybe I could be friends with a ghost. I wouldn’t be able to kill him.
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...Everyone had to eat, but eating people wasn't polite.
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Typical Kisten said, his eyes dramatically sad. Try to do something nice for a person, cheer her up, and what do I get? Abused and robbed.
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...It's easier to find a way to make money at something you love than to learn to love a job that you can make money at.
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You should be dead, he said, his voice full of wonder. How is it that you're still alive? Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. I work hard at it.
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