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I didn’t know what I was going to say, a feeling that was compounded when the line clicked open and Trent’s very muzzy voice murmured, “Rachel? Mmm, hi.
Kim Harrison
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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
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Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Voice
Clicked
Feelings
Compounded
Didn
Rachel
Going
Murmured
Line
Lines
Open
Feeling
Trent
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I was having coffee with my bodyguard. I didn't expect to be hunting bad guys until later. Leather before sundown is tacky.
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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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Hey,” the other said, coming to life. “You’re supposed to be in jail.” Al grinned at him, his white-gloved grip tightening on the wooden handle, which was intricately carved in the shape of a naked, writhing woman. Nice. “And your momma wanted you to have a brain,” he said, yanking the door open and slamming it into the guy’s face.
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He wanted that again, that feeling of standing with her against all odds and succeeding. He wanted it so bad, he was going to risk destroying everything he and his father had worked for.
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Actually,” I said, hesitant to bring it up, “I was thinking along the lines of a curse that can turn you human.” “Or witch?” Ivy said, surprising me. There was a soft vulnerability in her and I blinked. “You don’t want to be a witch,” I said quickly. “Why not? You are.
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She’s not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.
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The undead did not love, but they remembered love with a savage loyalty.
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A clipboard and a hard hat could get you just about anywhere.
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People ask me what I do in my spare time, and I look at them blankly, truly believing that I don't even have spare time, and if I did, I'd probably use it for something mundane, like chipping away at the mound of laundry rising to dangerous proportions in the back room.
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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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It’s a cat. Boy, you couldn’t slip anything past me tonight.
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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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Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.
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By Tink's diaphram...!
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She smiled with the warmth of a penguin.
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Looking at everything, I started to feel nauseous, as if the seventies had taken refuge here against extinction and were preparing to take over the world.
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Rachel, you take her,” my mother said, clearly uncomfortable. “She might like you.” “No. Mom, no!” I protested, but it was my mother we were talking about, and it was either take the baby or have her hit the floor.
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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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