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I don't have you, and without you, it feels like what I do have doesn't matter.

Rachel Vincent

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For those who may not know this, Madeline recruited me specifically to help hunt and take out a serial soul thief- I call him Cap'n Crunch, Luca interrupted, and was rewarded with a roomful of frowns. You know. Because he's a cereal thief?
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It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?
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When he finally stopped calling, the hush felt strange. It felt like the whole world went silent when Marc did, as if I could see peoples mouths moving, but I couldnt hear what they were saying. Like I'd gone deaf.
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You two are cracked, Tod snapped. My smile widened. Says the undead man in love with the soulless pop star.
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But I had no plans to end my own life, and accidents couldn't be predicted. Neither could murder, unless my aunt and uncle were planning to take me out themselves.
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Suggestions? I asked [...] Marc never took his gaze from the cage. Get the hose.
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You think he left a big flashing arrow pointing to a filing cabinet labeled 'Evidence Here!'? He's a Stray, Ethan, not Wile E. Coyote!
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Not that I don't appreciate the rescue, Holt said. But I'm forced to ask, in the interest of self-preservation ... exactly how well armed are you right now?
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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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I'm not going to lose you, Kaylee. No matter what I have to do, or whom I have to fight. Even if that means quashing your vexing tendencies toward self-sacrifice. Did you just say 'vexing'? Nash asked. Tod scowled. Nothing else seemed to fit. I stand by my word choice.
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Hey. Tod squeezed my hand to draw me out of my thoughts. I think death looks good on you.
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Holy silicone suppository, Batman!” Ethan said, grinning. Dan snorted, Parker coughed to disguise a laugh, and I glared at them all. “What?” My brother shrugged defensively. “That’s what it looks like.
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I'd just stepped out of the kiddie pool and into the deep end, with no floaties. And drowning was not an option.
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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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Great. I'm psychotic and sparkly.
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I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.
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Most aspects of my training didn’t agree with me. There wasn’t as much bossing around as I’d hoped for, and there was way too much following orders.
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I could take care of that obstacle for her - I'd tear down anything standing between us - but I couldn't destroy what I couldn't even see.
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Why do I always have to be the one who says 'stop'? I demanded, my voice little more than a moan. You don't. In fact, at this point I'm considering a petition to that word stricken from the English language. His grin was almost lazy, the gleam in his eyes an effortless challenge. If I did, would you sign?
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There’s an us?” “As far as I’m concerned…” He leaned forward, his mouth inches from mine, and my pulse spiked. “There’s nothing but us.
Rachel Vincent