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Why is this so hard?” I whispered. His pulse leaped crazily at my admission. “Everything worth fighting for is hard.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Leaped
Admission
Whispered
Pulse
Worth
Fighting
Everything
Hard
Crazily

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And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca. A death detector? Tod made a face. That's creepy. It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie. On purpose?
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So what does Tod look like? Whitewashed skeleton skulking around in a black cape and hood? Carrying a scythe? 'Cause I'm thinking that would cause mass panic in the hospital. ..... Do you chase after a funeral processions in a long, dirty dress, hair trailing behind you in the wind? I shot him a mock frown. Have you been following me again?
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I don't want to wear your dad's clothes. He hates me. You'd rather wear mine? Nash scowled.
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Regret couldn't fix what he's broken. Apologies couldn't bring back what he's lost. What we'd lost.
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So you’re saying the afterlife is hard on the libido? FYI, that’s probably not a good bullet point for your recruiting brochure.
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His name's Nash. Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. What year is he? I groaned inwardly. Senior. ...here we go ... Her smile was a little too enthusiastic. Well that's wonderful! Of course, what she really meant was Rise from the shadows, social leper, and walk in the bright light of acceptance!
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Kaylee, you're adding two and two and coming up with seven.
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Harmony glanced to her left, and my gaze followed hers to the living room, where my aunt had died, my cousin had been restored, and I'd whacked a psychotic grim reaper with a cast-iron skillet. Weirdest. Tuesday. Ever.
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Wait, Saturday night? The ladder-backed chair creaked and I looked up as he leaned forward to eye me in growing suspicion. I thought you stayed home. I shrugged and raised one eyebrow at him. I thought I was human.
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Well that's too bad, because this is an assassination. No, this is an execution. The difference would be...? Assassination is murder. Execution is justice.
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You already said that, Sabine said, folding the wrapper back from her burger. You said it a lot, actually. Which supports my theory that apologies are basically pointless. They don't fix anything, right? That's why I rarely bother.
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I should have said something. ... But my mouth wouldn't open, and the longer I stood there in silence, the better I can to understand the problem. It wasn't that I had nothing to say to him. It was that I had too much to say.
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Careful, pot, Tod said. Someone might notice your resemblance to the kettle.
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Not even if you fed me your firstborn, still wet and screaming
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What if the house catches fire?” “Roast marshmallows. And if it floods, you’ll go down with the ship. If there’s a tornado, I’ll meet both you and this house in Oz, after my shift. Got it?
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Standing, I turned to face my father. “It’s the same as the scent on Moore. It’s definitely a foreign cat, but it’s...more, somehow.” Ethan snickered at my unintentional pun, but I ignored him.
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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
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He shrugged, looking right into my eyes. Right now, this is all I feel. He held our intertwined hands up for me to see and I wanted to look away, but I couldn't break the hold his gaze had on me, like he could see more than anyone else saw. Things I couldn't see myself.
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When you push someone too far, they will push back and they push hard.
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But more than any of that, I was thankful for the possibility he'd shown me: that a man really could love a woman enough that he'd do anything to protect her. That's how much Tod loved Addy. That's how much I wanted Nash to love me.
Rachel Vincent