Anne Bishop Quotes

Saetan paused. "Can you also appreciate that, in the thirteen years she's lived here, Jaenelle has never been concerned enough about clothes to ask for my opinion about something she was wearing. And can you appreciate that she wasn't asking for my opinion as her Steward or her father but as a man. And I admit that, considering the way that dress fit her, my opinion of it as a father would have differed considerably from my opinion as a man." Daemon almost smiled. "She sees you as a man, Daemon. A man, not a male friend. For the first time in her life, she's trying to deal with her own lust. So she's running."
"She's not the only one trying to deal with it," Daemon muttered, but the sleepy look had changed to sharp interest. "I am her Consort. She could just - "
Saetan shook his head. "Do you really think Jaenelle would demand that from you?"
"No.

[Daemon's] arms tightened, drew her closer as his hand stroked up and down her back, just for the simple pleasure of it. She sighed. The tension in her muscles eased a bit, and she rested against him more fully.
He wasn't thinking of seduction when his hands began to wander over her - or when her hands hesitantly stroked him.
He wasn't thinking of seduction when his body delighted in how different the silky skin of her neck felt under his mouth compared to the robe beneath his hands.
He wasn't thinking of sex when he opened his robe and then hers so that only that film of spidersilk separated skin from skin. Or when even the spidersilk no longer separated them.
He wasn't thinking of sex when his mouth settled over hers and he sent them both sliding into dark, hot desire. And by the time he found himself in bed, listening to her purr with pleasure while he moved inside her, he wasn't able to think at all.

Oh, no.
He was furry, not stupid.

It's a romantic novel," Jaenelle said in a small voice as he called in his half-moon glasses and started idly flipping the pages. "A couple of women in a bookseller's shop kept talking about it." Romance. Passion. Sex. He suppressed - barely - the urge to leap to his feet and twirl her around the room. A sign of emotional healing? Please, sweet Darkness, please let it be a sign of healing.

Why would I care what you looked like? The flesh was the shell that housed the glory.

No. I'm not hot, and I don't want to do the Squeaky Dance." Simon sighed. This day was full of disappointments.

'The Others' books take place in an alternate Earth where the Earth natives have been the dominant predators throughout the world's history, and humans are nowhere near the top of the food chain. But humans are clever and resilient, if not always wise, and have made some bargains with the Others in order to survive.

The Dimwit's Guide to the Female Mind might assist your efforts in understanding human females. But it must be pointed out that this subject can be a dangerous adventure and should be undertaken with extreme caution. After all, human males have been trying to understand their females for generations, and most of the time they come away from these encounters looking like someone stuck their tails into an electric socket.

He's my friend, my brother," he whispered into her shoulder. "He's dying."
"Daemon." Jaenelle gently stroked his hair. "Daemon, we have to help him. I could - "
"No!" Don't tempt me with hope. Don't tempt me to take that kind of risk. "You can't help him. Nothing can help him now."
Jaenelle tried to push back to look at him, but he wouldn't let her. "I know I promised him I wouldn't wander around Terreille, but - " Daemon licked a tear.
"You met him? He saw you once?"
"Once." She paused. "Daemon, I might be able to - "
"No," Daemon moaned into her neck. "He wouldn't want you there, and if something happened to you, he'd never forgive me. Never.

You're in the Courtyard.
Whatever rules humans have for employers aren't my rules unless I say they're my rules.
So I can hire you even though you don't have any idea what you're doing, and I can fire you for having stinky hair!

That is a list of the Territories that yielded to Ebon Askavi. They now stand within the shadow of the Keep. They are mine. Anyone who tries to settle in my Territory without my consent will be dealt with. Anyone who harms any of my people will be executed. There will be no excuses and no exceptions. I will say it simply so that the members of this Council and the intruders who thought to take land they had no right to claim can never say they misunderstood." Jaenelle's lips curled into a snarl. "STAY OUT OF MY TERRITORY!

Even a strong child, a powerful child, would be dependent on the adults around her. If her strength could unnerve him, how would her people, her family, react if they ever discovered what was contained inside that small husk? Would they accept the child who already was the strongest Queen in the history of the Blood, or would they fear the power? And if they feared the power, would they try to cut her off from it by breaking her? A Virgin Night performed with malevolent skill could strip her of her power while leaving the rest intact. But, since her inner web was so deep in the abyss, she might be able to withdraw far enough to withstand the physical violation - unless the male was able to descend deep enough into the abyss to threaten her even there. Was there a male strong enough, dark enough, vicious enough? There was ... one. - Saetan

He wondered if there was a way human males said they were sorry about something without saying they were sorry. Because he wasn't sorry about being angry.

And he wondered just how much teasing she had received - and why human males would train a female to shoot a gun and then tease her into being angry enough to shoot them. "I'm

He didn't understand why everyone fussed about taking clean clothes out of a drawer. Underclothes smelled a lot more interesting after the female wore them.

he was the friend who would become an enemy in order to remain a friend. 3

There are some questions that shouldn't be asked until a person is mature enough to appreciate the answers.

More than a shadow and less than a soul.

Do you always ask me the same questions you ask him?"
"It depends on whether or not I get an answer.

She would have told her to respect her limitations as well as her abilities.

Are there weapons in a bookstore?'
'It's a store full of books, which are objects that can be thrown as well as read,' Monty replied blandly.
The Crows cocked his head. 'I had no idea you humans lived with so much danger.

Yes, I am," he said softly. "That's the way I was. That's the way I could be again." He shook his head as he raised his hand, his fingertips touching her hair. "I want to be your lover. I chose to be your lover. That makes all the difference. Being in bed with you is like soaring on a sweet wind. I chose to be your lover, Marian ... just as you chose to be mine.

Human females, they're kind of crazy during this time aren't they?
If you chose to believe the stories written by male writers.
They heard a bang and thump from the kitchen. Followed by Meg yelling at something.
That many males can't be wrong.

But what would they have said to their Liaison? It's like this, Meg. We didn't like that Asia Crane, so we ate her.
When dealing with humans, honesty isn't always the best policy, Vlad thought

Okay. I picked up a movie to watch tonight. You can watch it with me if you like. It's a chick movie. Merri Lee said that means girls like it, not that there are small birds in it.

Daemon had written: "What do you do when she asks a question no man would give a child an answer to?"
Saetan had replied: "Hope you're obliging enough to answer it for me. However, if you're backed into a corner, refer her to me. I've become accustomed to being shocked.

When honor and the Law no longer stand on the same side of the line, how do we choose[?]

Whether you're beaten or pampered, fed the best foods or starved, kept in filth or kept clean, a
cage is still a cage,

He had a feeling this was one of those times when a male should express positive enthusiasm regardless of what he really thought - especially when he didn't really know what was going on.

Once, he'd been the Seducer, the Executioner, the High Priest of the Hourglass, the Prince of the Darkness, the High Lord of Hell.

Once, he'd been Consort to Cassandra, the great Black-Jeweled, Black Widow Queen, the last Witch to walk the Realms.

Once, he'd been the only Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood, feared for his temper and the power he wielded.

Once, he'd been the only male who was a Black Widow.

Once, he'd ruled the Dhemlan Territory in the Realm of Terreille and her sister Territory in Kaeleer, the Shadow Realm. He'd been the only male ever to rule without answering to a Queen and, except for Witch, the only member of the Blood to rule Territories in two Realms.

Once, he'd been married to Hekatah, an aristo Black Widow Priestess from one of Hayll's Hundred Families.

Once, he'd raised two sons, Mephis and Peyton. He'd played games with them, told them stories, read to them, healed their skinned knees and broken hearts, taught them Craft and Blood Law, showered them with his love of the land as well as music, art, and literature, encouraged them to look with eager eyes upon all that the Realms had to offer - not to conquer but to learn. He'd taught them to dance for a social occasion and to dance for the glory of Witch. He'd taught them how to be Blood.

But that was a long, long time ago.

Vlad hated doing the paperwork as much as he did when a human employee quit, which was why they'd both made a promise not to eat quitters just to avoid the paperwork. As Tess had pointed out, eating the staff was bad for marale and made it so much harder to find new employees.

I walked down to the village with five Sceltie puppies. I came back to the Hall with four."
"And the fifth ?"
"By now, I'm sure Sylvia has convinced the little bitch to let go of Mikal's trousers. And Mrs Beale promised to send her recipe for puppy biscuits to Sylvia's cook."
"Mrs Beale agreed to share a recipe," Saetan said slowly.
"Mrs Beale agreed that I could pay for ... I'm not sure what it is except that it's something she wanted for the kitchen but couldn't justify as a normal household expense."
"And you agreed to fund this in exchange for a recipe ?"
Daemon stared at his father for a long moment before he muttered, "She sharpened the meat cleaver before coming to talk to me."
One beat of silence. Two. Then Saetan burst out laughing.

Do you know what the Sharkgard call humans on a ship?>

She looked down at him, smiling with exasperated amusement. *Stubborn, snarly male.*

*Stubbornness is a much-maligned quality,* he panted as he climbed toward her. Her silvery, velvet-coated laugh filled the land. Then he finally got a good look at her. He sank to his knees. *I owe you a debt, Lady.*

She shook her head. *The debt is mine, not yours.*

*I failed you,* he said bitterly, looking at her wasted body.

*No, Daemon,* Jaenelle replied softly. *I failed you. You asked me to heal the crystal chalice and return to the living world. And I did. But I don't think I ever forgave my body for being the instrument that was used to try to destroy me, and I became its cruelest torturer. For that I'm sorry because you treasured that part of me.*

*No, I treasured all of you. I love you, Witch. I always will. You're everything I'd dreamed you would be.*

She smiled at him. *And I - * She shuddered, pressed her hand against her chest. *Come. There's little time left.* She fled through the rocks, out of sight before he could move. He hurried after her, following the glittering trail, gasping as he felt a crushing weight descend on him. *Daemon.* Her voice came back to him, faint and pain-filled. *If the body is going to survive, I can't stay any longer.* He fought against the weight.

*Jaenelle!*

*You have to take this in slow stages. Rest there now. Rest, Daemon. I'll mark the trail for you.

Some men die for lack of love ... some die because of it. Think about it. - Daemon

Jaenelle tried to smile. "They won't find their way through the maze. Not this maze, anyway." Then she looked sadly at Daemon's gaunt, bruised body and gently brushed the long, dirty, tangled black hair off his forehead. "Ah, Daemon. I had gotten used to thinking of my body as a weapon that was used against me. I'd forgotten that it's also a gift. If it's not too late, I'll do better. I promise." Jaenelle placed her transparent hands on either side of Daemon's head. She closed her eyes. The Black Jewel glowed. Listening to the Hayllian guards thrashing around somewhere in the maze, Surreal sank to the ground and settled down to wait. *Daemon.* The island slowly sank into the sea of blood. He curled up in the center of the pulpy ground while the word sharks circled, waiting for him. *Daemon.

Wait! I'm the one who's supposed to chase!

Perhaps not willingly, but pain can make a man do things he wouldn't willingly do.

Misery is a heart that can never be content with what it has and, by always craving something more, brings about its own destruction. And desolation is a heart so fearful of losing what it hoards that it never knows the richness that comes from being able to give.

I've done some research for my books and talked to a few humans, and they all said humans would use guns and knives and clubs for weapons." The Crow nodded. "A screaming woman with a teakettle just doesn't sound sufficiently dangerous." "But she was! They were!" Alan said. "How would a human deal with them?

Briarwood is the pretty poison. There is no cure for Briarwood.

Everything has a price.

When would humans realize they always started the fights that would kill them? He

Jaenelle squirmed. My ... mate ... is trapped in the Twisted Kingdom. If I don't show him the way out, he'll be destroyed.

Is it that time of the month?" Vlad asked.
Some feeling blew through her. It might have been embarrassment, but she suspected it was closer to rage. "What?"
He studied her. "Is that not an appropriate question to ask?"
"No!"
"Odd. In many novels I've read, human males often ask that question when a female is acting…" Puzzlement as he continued to study her face. "Although, now that I consider it, they usually don't make that observation to the female herself.

I'm not cs747," she whispered defiantly as she shifted on her cot in order to lean back against the wall. "My name is Jean.

Not fault of teaching spider if little spider pay more attention to catching fly than doing lesson.

In the gray world above, I hear myself howling with laughter. Far below me, in the psychic abyss that is part of the Darkness, I hear another howling, one full of joy and pain, rage and celebration.
Not just another witch is coming, my foolish Sisters, but Witch.

Simon's relationship with Meg was too complex for anything as simple as sex.

How does a large slice of fresh bread soaked in beef broth sound?" About as edible as the table leg. "Do I have any choices?" "No."
"Sounds wonderful.

I was thinking of something that made me unhappy."
Simon stopped snarling and cocked his head, looking more baffled than angry. "Why would you do that?

You stirred things up here." he finally said. "Why?"
"I'm not the one who-"
"You've angered the Sanguinati, and that's not going to help us right now."
"You don't know what's been going on here,' Elliot snapped. "what that monkey-fuck female has done."
"She's not a monkey-fuck, and she is not prey," Simon said, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "She is Meg."
"You don't know what she's done!"
"She gets mail and deliveries to the complexes on a regular basis. She has a routine with the deliverymen, so we get the merchandise we bought. And she got Sam out of the damn cage!"
"She put a him on a leash, Simon. On a leash!"
"It's not a leash," a young, scratchy voice shouted. Of tried to shout. "It's a safety line. Adventure buddies use a safety line so they can help each other."
Elliot stared, frozen. Simon turned, barely breathing.

He brought his other foot to the ground and gingerly tested his ankle. It would be a little sore, but it was still sound. He kept his back half turned from her as he ground his teeth, waiting for the insolent giggle he'd heard in so many other courts when he'd been maneuvered into looking foolish. He was furious for failing, furious because of the sudden despair he felt that she would think him an inadequate companion. He had forgotten that Jaenelle was Jaenelle. "I'm sorry, Daemon," said a wavering, whispery voice behind him. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," Daemon said as he turned around, his lips set in a rueful smile.

"Lady?" Then, alarmed. "Lady! Jaenelle, no, darling, don't cry." He gathered her into his arms while her shoulders shuddered with the effort not to make a sound. "Don't cry," Daemon crooned as he stroked her hair. "Please don't cry. I'm not hurt. Honestly I'm not." Since her face was buried against his chest, he allowed himself a pained smile as he kissed her hair. "I guess I'm too much of a grown-up to learn magic."

"No, you're not," Jaenelle said, pushing away from him and scrubbing the tears off her face with the backs of her hands. "I've just never tried to explain it to anyone before."

"Well, there you are," he said too brightly. "If you've never shown anyone - " "Oh, I've shown lots of my other friends," Jaenelle said brusquely. "I've just never tried to explain it." Daemon was puzzled. "How di

Words lie. Blood doesn't.

I was going to make some tea," [Marian] said. "It's cold tonight." [Lucivar] returned the smile, then gave her a long, very thorough kiss. "I have a better way to warm you up.

We are what we are. Nothing more, nothing less. There is good and evil among every kind of people. It's the evil among us who rule now.

You put a sleep spell on me, didn't you?" she grumbled.
"You'll thank me for it later," Lucivar replied, kissing her temple. I love you. "That's good to hear, witchling, because I love you, too." She was dreaming. Of course she was dreaming. But she smiled and let the dream take her.

The heart's need to make its journey through life calls to us. Some hearts will back away from the journey, too fearful to leave the familiar even though it withers. Others wills leap forward and never look back, bruising the hearts left behind. Pain will force some to begin the journey. For others, love will be a beacon that keeps them moving forward.

Nathan said nothing for a moment. Then, "There's nothing in my fur, is there?"
Simon gave the other Wolf a careful look. "No boogers."
"Good. I hate washing boogers out of fur."
"Who doesn't? What comes out of human noses is disgusting ...

What you give comes back to you. It's not tit for tat
life isn't that simple
but what you give always comes back to you.

Lucivar winced. "She guzzled half the flask - and it wasn't one of his home brews, it was the concoction you created."

Jaenelle's eyes widened. "You let her drink a 'gravedigger'?"

"No no no," Wilhelmina said, shaking her head. "You shouldn't ever drink a gravedigger until he's had a bath." She smiled placidly when Jaenelle and Lucivar just stared at her.

"Mother Night," Lucivar muttered.

"Do you know that song?" Wilhelmina asked Jaenelle.

We know how it ends practically before it starts. That's why stories appeal to us. They give us the clarity and simplicity our real lives lack.

Jaenelle blushed. "No, none of them are my mate. I'm not old enough for a mate," she added hurriedly as Smoke gave them all a look of blatant disapproval. "This is Saetan, the High Lord. He's my sire. My brother, Prince Mephis, is the High Lord's pup. And this is my uncle, Prince Andulvar, and my cousin, Lord Prothvar. And that's Lord Beale. Everyone, this is Prince Smoke.

Do any of them realize that Simon Wolfgard is falling in love with Meg Corbyn? Monty wondered. Does Wolfgard understand his own response to the girl? What about Meg? How does she feel? What would the rest of the Others do if one of their kind did fall in love with a human?

Everything has a price. It's just what your willing to pay for it.

It was hard to be around Jean because he looked at her and saw what Meg's future would have been if she hadn't been brave enough to run away - and if Jean hadn't been brave enough to stay.

While he waited, he made up the bed,more to discourage Meg from falling back into it than because he wanted to tidy the room. Besides, running his hands over the sheets and breathing in her scent made him happy,

The map showed human places I'd never heard of - places that had once been great civilizations, until humans forgot the world wasn't theirs to claim.

A special gift for a special Lady.

Dear Jean, I have seen a deer. I have petted a pony. I helped plant a garden. I have smelled earth and felt it in my hands. You watched the sun rise. These things are worth the struggle to live outside.

[ ... ]
"What were you going to do if he'd refused ?"
Jaenelle looked at him and smiled.
Butterflies filled his stomach and tickled unmercifully before turning into heavy, sinking stones.
"Well," his darling said, "you have a wonderful deep voice too. So if Papa refused, I was going to ask you."
Saetan walked into the sitting room where he'd asked Geoffrey and Draca, the Keep's Seneschal, to meet him.
"My friends, this bottle of wine arrived this evening, compliments of Prince Sadi. Since it came from the wine cellar at the Hall, I can assure you it is a very fine vintage, one best enjoyed when shared."
He called in three glasses and opened the wine.
Draca said nothing until he handed her a glass. "What iss the occassion ?"
Saetan grinned. "My son has just realized how much his father loves him.

A woman with an education may be able to spend more time sitting in a chair instead of lying on her back. A sound advantage, I should think.

I can do this," [Daemon] crooned, slowly circling around her. "I can keep Dorothea and Hekatah off-balance enough to keep the others safe and also prevent those Ladies from giving the orders to send the Terreillean armies into Kaeleer. I can buy you seventy-two hours, Jaenelle. But it's going to cost me because I'm going to do things I may never be forgiven for, so I want something in return." He could taste her slight bafflement before she said, "All right."
"I don't want to wear the Consort's ring anymore." A slash of pain, quickly stifled.
"All right."
"I want a wedding ring in its place." A flash of joy, immediately followed by sorrow. She smiled at him at the same time her eyes filled with tears. "It would be wonderful." She meant that.

The courtyard kept changing, dazzling her with the flowers that bloomed between one day and the next, with the bare branches of trees that were swollen with the buds of new leaves and then fuzzed with green. Every day, she drove a familiar road through a new place.

Seven hundred years ago, Tersa had told [Daemon] the living myth was coming. Seven hundred years of waiting, watching, searching, hoping. Seven hundred heartbreaking, exhausting years. He refused to give up, refused to wonder if she'd been mistaken, refused because his heart yearned too much for that strange, wonderful, terrifying creature called Witch.

In his soul, he knew her. In his dreams, he saw her. He never envisioned a face. It always blurred if he tried to focus on it. But he could see her dressed in a robe made of dark, transparent spidersilk, a robe that slid from her shoulders as she moved, a robe that opened and closed as she walked, revealing bare, night-cool skin. And there would be a scent in the room that was her, a scent he would wake to, burying his face in her pillow after she was up and attending her own concerns.

It wasn't lust - the body's fire paled in comparison to the embrace of mind to mind - although physical pleasure was part of it. He wanted to touch her, feel the texture of her skin, taste the warmth of her. He wanted to caress her until they both burned. He wanted to weave his life into hers until there was no telling where one began and the other ended. He wanted to put his arms around her, strong and protecting, and find himself protected; possess her and be possessed; dominate her and be dominated. He wanted that Other, that shadow across his life, who made him ache with every breath while he stumbled among these feeb

Nothing wrong with the way your mother looks. First thing in the morning, last thing at night, and every hour in between, she looks just fine.

He couldn't regret Daemon's and Lucivar's existence, but he'd tortured himself for centuries with reports of what had been done to them. - Saetan

We are drawn to the Light ... others are drawn to the darkness that lives within the human heart ... there will always be such hearts. There will always be that choice. If that wasn't true, then a heart that walks in the Light has made no choice at all.

We're going to destroy Cel-Romano. I wanted you to know that before you die," Stavros said. "You upstart infestation. You thought you could wipe out the terra indigene? It's your species that is going to wither - and you will be one of the things the survivors, if there are any, can thank for that." He released Scratch and floated a safe distance away as dozens of the Sharkgard rushed in to strike the enemy, consuming the human piece by piece. A foot. A hand. A forearm. A thigh.

When you're fully healed," she said sternly, then spoiled it with a silvery, velvet-coated laugh. "Oh, Lucivar, the dragons who live on the Fyreborn Islands are going to love you. You not only have wings, you're big enough to wave whomp.

He watched her, listened to her, and knew she was truly asleep. He kissed her forehead and found the act pleasing for its own sake. And, he admitted as he licked his lips, it was enjoyable for other reasons. Meg wasn't bitable, but he really did like the taste of her.

He just hoped Meg leading the way didn't mean all the blood prophets would do strange things to their hair.

Our recovery of hope - full colour, three-dimensional, hard working, clear thinking, wildly radical, living hope - is our key to liberation.

I need to talk to one of the Zuulaman Blood," Andulvar said.
"They are gone," Draca replied.
"From Terreille, yes. But there must be some who are demon-dead. You could arrange this."
"They are gone," she repeated. "The Dark Realm wass purged of Zuulaman Blood."
Andulvar grabbed one of the chairs that surrounded the table to keep himself upright. "You purged Hell ?"
"No."
"Then... ?"
"The Prince of the Darknesss. The High Lord of Hell." Draca stared at him. "Grief wass the hammer they ussed to break hiss control. Rage wass the forge in which he sshaped hiss power into a weapon."
"So there's no one left."
"There's no one left," Geoffrey agreed. He looked at Draca. "If Saetan did what we think he did, there isn't a shard of pottery, a scrap of cloth, or a line from a poem, story, or song left that came from the Zuulaman people. There isn't any trace of them in any of the Realms."
Including the islands they came from, Andulvar thought, feeling sick.
"It's as if they never existed," Geoffrey said.

Opportunities and choices.

Insidious bastard," she whispered. "I don't know how you gave me that gut-jab of fear, but I won't forget you can use my own heart against me. I won't give up the landscapes in my care. Not even this one. And I won't let you have any of them. I'll find a way to do alone what it took hundreds like me to do the last time. And by the time I'm finished, I will lock you in a landscape even *you* will find unbearable.

Vlad looked around. Are we providing shelter, or are the humans actually buying books?

Was she cold? If he'd stayed with her last night, she wouldn't be cold.

He hurt because she was hurting. He wanted to lick her face and find a meaty bone for her to gnaw on. He wanted to entice her into a game so she would think about something else. But

But during the day ... that was life. The collection of small details that made up a shared day were what gave richness to what happened in the bed at night.

Lesson one, bitch. Don't start a pissing contest with someone who has the strength and temper to hurt you.

Who do you have to find?"

"The boy. My son. Daemon." Lucivar's heart clogged his throat as he watched Jaenelle pale. "Daemon." Jaenelle shuddered. "The gold key."

"I have to find him." Tersa's voice rang with frustration and fear. "If the pain doesn't end soon, it will destroy him."

Jaenelle gave no sign of having heard or understood the words. "Daemon," she whispered. "How could I have forgotten Daemon?"

"I must go back to Terreille. I must find him."

"No," Jaenelle said in her midnight voice. "I'll find him."

Tersa stopped her restless movements. "Yes," she said slowly, as if trying hard to remember something. "He would trust you. He would follow you out of the Twisted Kingdom.

Earth natives didn't absorb everything from the forms they had chosen over the long years the sun had risen and set over Namid. They were first and always terra indigene. But they learned from the predators they became, and certain traits were passed down to the young of each form. Yes,

But naked wasn't something done around human pups - although he wanted to ask the men why naked from the waist up was all right for them but females remained covered. That didn't seem fair. Shifting

He gave her one. "It is totally unfair," he said in his most severe voice, "to engage in a snowball fight when only one combatant can make snowballs." He waited, loving the way her eyes sparkled. "Well?" Even without reading the thoughts beneath it, he could tell her touch was filled with laughter. Daemon bent down, gathered some snow, and learned how to make a snowball from snow too fluffy to pack. This, too, was similar to a basic lesson in Craft - creating a ball of witchlight - yet it required a subtler, more intrinsic knowledge of Craft than he'd ever known anyone to have. "Did the Priest teach you how to do this?" he asked as he straightened up, delighted with the perfect snowball in his hand. Jaenelle stared at him, aghast. Then she laughed. "Noooo." She quickly cocked her arm and hit him in the chest with her snowball. The next few minutes were all-out war, each of them pelting the other as fast as they could make snowballs. When it was over, Daemon was peppered with clumps of white. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. "I leave the field to you, Lady," he panted. "As well you should," she replied tartly. Daemon looked up, one eyebrow rising.

Mother Night and May The Darkness Be Merciful!

Ms. Borden is Lizzy's mother?

The cow-shaped cookies have a beef flavoring, the turkey-shaped cookies have a poultry flavoring, and ... "
Jane held up one of the cookies. "Human-flavored?"
Meg stifled a sigh. That would be the first thing on her feedback list: don't make people-shaped cookies. The Wolves were way too interested and all of them leaped to a logical, if disturbing, expectation about the taste.

Vlad stared at Simon. "Meg told the Elders they were..."
"Bad puppies," Simon finished. "Yeah."
A minute passed before Vlad said, "Why?"
"They didn't say 'please' when they asked for cookies."
"I don't know what to say."
Simon scratched behind an ear that was now Wolf-shaped and furry. "That's okay. Meg said plenty for all of us.

Being human doesn't entitle us to grab what doesn't belong to us.