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I felt sick. Buying Kisten’s and my safety from Piscary was so wrong. But it was either that or deal with a demon, and I’d rather keep my soul clean and let my morals get dingy.
Kim Harrison
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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Safety
Rather
Felt
Clean
Keep
Sick
Soul
Deal
Dingy
Deals
Morals
Either
Demon
Moral
Buying
Wrong
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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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I suddenly realized that a bunch of my friends needed babysitters and vowed to start screening my calls.
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She smiled with the warmth of a penguin.
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Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.
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It was a nice bit of blackmail that kept him off my back, but he refused to take the message that I wasn’t going to work for him. ’Course, that might be my fault…since I seemed unable to say no when he waved enough money at me.
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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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Wait until the sun sets tonight, and if we are both here to see it, then my heart will break knowing you are safe and yet not to be mine. If you are gone, then my heart will break knowing that God has taken you home...” Gordian Pierce
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She’s not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.
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Anything worth having is going to be hard
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the mad have a grace all their own
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Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. “Welcome back, my itchy witch.
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The car was full of unhappy people heading west. It was the Great American Family Road Trip, all right. Whaaa-hoo!
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I thought it odd that the woman was over a thousand years old but thought the microwave was primitive.
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My God, he whispered. What have I done to her? He thought, humbled. The spell was broken, but it wasn't sealed, and her soul was bare to him, the scars of her tragic past and her triumphs over pain and her aching need to find her place. He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful.
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Rose to Rachel: You cry you get angry then you do something about it.
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Rache,” he said, trying to get into my line of sight. “What more do you need? God to send a telegram? (Jenks)
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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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Gaily, if you can't demonstrate the ability to keep her alive, then I will take over her care and get you a dog instead. - Newt
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My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching. I looked again, not believing. “It’s a cat,” I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect.
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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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