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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Guided
Sacraments
Serve
Killing
Death
Handmaidens
Sacrament

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Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.
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It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
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We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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One heart cannot serve two masters.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
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He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. Who are you? I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. Vengeance, I say softly.
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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.
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