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Relief spilled into me. He wanted to live. He just didn't know how.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Spilled
Relief
Didn
Wanted
Live

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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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You are the devil to talk to, Rachel, he said curtly. Will you shut up and listen?
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Al's red eyes slid past me to Pierce. Play? he said, his voice dripping with interest. Gordian Nathaniel Pierce's quirks are legendary. Why do you think I want the runt so badly? Size truly doesn't matter if you can do what he can. ~ Algaliarept, Black Magic Sanction, Kim Harrison
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She’s not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.
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There is black. There is white. Gray is a cowardly excuse to mix our wants with our needs.
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My office is trashed,” he grumped as he squished across his damp carpet and took the coffee that I was holding out to him. “Why are you smiling? My fish are dead.
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I told you, computers are like women. If you shout at them or ask them to do too many things at once, they shut down and you won't even get a sniff pg. 4
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He's going to hurt you, Al said, looking at Pierce. I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me. I shivered. I don't want him, I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.
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Good Lord, I thought, squinting at the bright glare of a late-July morning. No wonder I slept through this. It was noisy with shrieking birds, and already hot.
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Hey, ah, does anyone want a cookie or something? Oh yeah. A cookie. That would make everything better. Dunked in a shot of tequila , maybe? Or better yet, just the bottle? Yeah, that ought to do it.
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CINCINNATI MORGUE, AN EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SERVICE SINCE 1966.
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I want…” he said, then hesitated, taking a breath of air and lifting his chin. “I want one pure thing in my life,” he said loudly, his voice ringing in the red-tinted air. “I want one thing I can point to and say, ‘That is good, and it’s a part of me.
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Adjustment? She called that an adjustment? How about I adjust her right out of existence?
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