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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.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Dead
Carpet
Holding
Fish
Fishes
Coffee
Across
Trashed
Office
Damp
Took
Smiling

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Rachel, my itchy witch, Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. We've talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?
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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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I want one thing I can point to and say, 'that is good, and it's a part of me.'
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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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Relief spilled into me. He wanted to live. He just didn't know how.
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Okay, you drive, she said. I'll sit with m head hanging out of the window like a golden retriever.
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I'll always be here, he said softly. You can never fill my need, never drive me away, no matter how much you give me. The good or the bad. I'll always be hungry for emotion, always and forever, and I can feel you hurting. I can turn it to joy. If you'll let me.
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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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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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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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She’s not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.
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You can trust me to keep my word. I always keep my word, promises or threats.
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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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Coffee. I could smell coffee. Coffee would make everything better.
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But a slow, deeply satisfied smile came over him, and his breath quickened. 'So softly it starts,' he whispered. 'Foolishly clever and with an unsurvivable trust. It just saved your miserable life, that questionable show of thought, my itchy-witch.' Al’s smile shifted, becoming lighter. 'And now you will live to possibly regret 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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Rose to Rachel: You cry you get angry then you do something about it.
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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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