Eliza Crewe Quotes

My hands twitch and wiggle.
Jo sees them, shakes her head and mouths, "Sit on your hands."
She can't be serious. As if my butt would stop my hands even if it could. Does she not realize it's in league with the rest of me?

I suppose it should bother me to be so hated but, without it, I wouldn't have the delight of torturing them with my presence. What can I say? My cheerful spirit can't help but spot silver linings.

And since when does Hell have royalty? I thought they were all bureaucrats." "Oh, sweetie," he says, patronizing. "That's cute." "What's cute?" "That you think celebrity children of powerful people aren't royalty." "Are you accusing me of being a Hilton?" I sputter. "Or a, a–" my head might explode, "Kardashian?" "The Hellish equivalent.

No, I should kill him. He said himself he would eventually go back to the demons. But he turns long-lashed eyes on me, full of entreaty, as if he were saying: please, please let me come murder the molester with you. How do you say "no" to eyes like those? They are a magical combination of sex and puppy.
Better than it sounds, I promise.

Those of us who live with twisted bits like to think we can overcome them.

They claim revenge is a dish best served cold, but I've found it to be equally delicious hot - not unlike fried chicken.

You mother-f–" "Yes, actually, I am. All part of the job.

All right – love of my life, but that's kind of a mouthful. One day, let's just shorten it to 'wife'."

Even I find that frightening, and it wasn't directed at me.

Get him! My hormones scream.
Don't fall for it, my brain cautions.
Pretty! They whine. Stupid hormones.
Calm down, hormones. We are just pumping him – (really brain, you chose the word pumping?) – for information. He is literally evil. We need to keep our distance.

You are a total nerd."
Not what he's expecting, the darkness wiped away by a startled laugh. "What?"
"Why else would you possibly know that?" I say it like I'm piecing together a puzzle – and I'm appalled by the picture it's making. "You're a nerd. A complete nerd. You nerdified sex. That just happened.

But I am not sick, or crazy, or broken.
I am Meda Melange, demon-saint monster girl. I make full-grown men scream in terror. I break bones and drain blood. I turn nightmares into reality.
I am the most powerful creature on earth. I do not wear a leash.

Death is my art form--when I fight, I'm a ballerina. Graceful. Chi lacks my grace, but makes up for it in energy and enthusiasm. His fighting style is like breakdancing--strong and frenetic with some really sweet moves. Jo's is . . .the Macarena. Ugly but gets the job done.

What do you say to your best friend when you stand at the gates of the gates of hell? Nothing. If it's your best friend, she already knows.

I hear myself laughing, screeching, cackling. The world is red hot and pulsing. On fire [...] I stroll down the corridor and the flickering fluorescents celebrate my passing, humming in praise. I spin, bow and hum along. Bloody footprints trail; bloody fingers smear the walls.

My teeth rip skin; my jaws snap bones. I am fast, lightning-fast, snuff - oh-was-that-your-life? - oh-was-that-your-life? - fast.

He doesn't back down under my accusations. Instead he leans in, his big frame curving over me like a wave. "I would do all that and more." His tone betrays a carefully restrained ferocity, and I see in him, shifting and fluttering, behind his eyes the monster I've always known is there. It makes my breath catch, the beautiful horror of it. He doesn't try to hide it, if anything he leans in closer, filling my vision until he fills the world. Him and his dark devil's eyes.

And I did it for Him and He loves them. He betrayed us! Do you know why they get to come back from the dead to slaughter more and more of us? I thought it was some demon's trick. That maybe we could fix that, too, or instead if our first mission failed." Now she's laughing at herself, at her naivety. "But He did it. Because He loves them. He loves the demons. He still loves them! After they sold their souls, after they've tortured the Templars and Beacons, and countless random innocents, He still loves them! He wants to give them time to change their minds before they're committed to hell. He wants to give those murdering bastards the ability to be redeemed. They slaughtered my family, bathed in the blood of my friends, and He still loves them." She looks at me and I see in her expression so much pain, so much bitterness, so much rage that I would have stepped back, had the demons not been holding me in place. The darkness that has taken over her personality since she became a demon becomes suddenly clear. After everything she has sacrificed to His cause she can't understand how He can forgive her enemies.

But I do.

I do and it hits me with the force of a train.

They say curiosity killed the cat but I am unconcerned. I am smarter, though slightly less evil, than any cat.

Colton suspects we're not just children, that we are, in fact, the terrifying things that go bump in the night. But, no, that's wrong. Not things that bump. Bumps are clumsy and inelegant. They are sounds made by creatures not at home in the darkness. I don't bump. I crunch in the night. I crack; I splatter; I splash. But I never, ever bump.

I hear Jo in my head trying to douse the fire in my heart. "Be good, Meda." Good, good, good, good, good. The word plays in a loop until it means nothing. I've been good and they refuse to feed me. I've been good and they won't train me. I've been good and they changed the locks. I've been good and they want to send me away.

Stupid Crusaders with their stupid rules. For a homicidal group, they're appallingly restrictive.
No, Meda, you can't leave campus.
No, Meda, you know we have a curfew.
No, Meda, you can't eat that guy.

I eye the three of them, considering. They'll need a lesson in discretion before I go. Not a lethal lesson. Mom wouldn't like that.

5 stars = If I weren't taken, I'd marry this book and have its delightful little book babies.

4 stars = goin' steady (or whatever you crazy kids call it these days). So good I'd read it again.

3 stars = A great, one-time fling. I enjoyed it but it probably won't be a reread.

2 stars and below = The pretty thing didn't make it past the pick-up line. I don't rate these because I don't finish them.

I laugh. "How exactly do you see this…" I wave between the two of us, unable to come up with a descriptor
"Beautiful friendship?" he supplies with a devilish grin.
"…going?" I finish, ignoring him. "Us being mortal enemies and all."
"I prefer the term 'star-crossed lovers.'"
I snort. "Regardless, it can't end well."
"The best romances don't.

Maybe the problem is that demons belong with demons. Because they're both takers. One takes from the other but she doesn't miss it because she's taking just as much from him. Like children with straws in each other's milkshakes." He pauses. "They would be as sneaky and mean in love as they are in everything else; but they'd also both be full and happy.

What a foolish thing, the human heart, being both fragile and reckless. No wonder we spend such an inordinate amount of time in pain.

Forget them, Meda. Forget her." He reaches up and puts his hand on the side of my face, tugging it toward him. "I like you as you are. Good, evil, whatever. All I care about is that you're alive. Please, Meda.

Turns out I'm only 'mom-special'. Special like a snowflake is special. Special like a school kid on honor roll.

Because the dumb slut slept with him, and he's too nice to–" WHAM, out of nowhere he nose-butts me in the fist!

I remember jeering when Chi announced to Jo, in the midst of demon-fighting hell, that he'd loved her all his life. But now I suddenly get it. When your life is shortened to mere minutes, it has a way of focusing your priorities. You're in the burning house of your life – what's that one item you're going to grab?

For me, it's Armand's hand.

Ah well, no rest for the wicked and all that. I'll just have to kill him myself.

Like any fatherless child, I've wondered about the man responsible for the glory that is me. Needless to say, it's disappointing to learn he's the kind who'd probably eat his young.

Jo turns towards me. Her voice is calm but now I see her eyes blaze in a holy hazel fire. She doesn't want to die, but she will, for what she believes in. I need new friends.

You said you'd cooperate."
I knew I'd regret my promise, just not quite this soon. "You don't wear pink!"
"Yeah, well, no one thinks I'm in league with the devil."
She shoves it into my chest. I narrow my eyes. "I do.

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I'm pretty durable, but concrete and I have faced off before. While I didn't die, I wouldn't say I won, either.

I study the little creature in front of me. What is it about these dwarfish little humans? They lack smarts, lack skills and they never seem to have much money. Yet they are powerful little monsters – adults dance to the tunes played by their chubby little fingers. Is it the disproportionately big head? Or the eyes too big for that head? Did I have this effect on my own mother? Was that why she believed in my goodness, despite all evidence to the contrary?
Suddenly the lower lip pokes out and the eyes grow even bigger. I feel a tug in the region where my heart should be… I want to give it things…
Ahhhhhh! Look away! Look away! Evil, ensnaring, hypnotic monster.
Just kidding, but it is kind of cute. I feed it a cracker.

It's illegal, you know," he murmurs. "Stealing."
I clear my throat. "Stealing?"
"My heart. I could have you arrested."
I snort. "For that tiny thing? I'd get a misdemeanor at most.

Your death, strange human. I mean, your injury. No murder, just a little maiming. So I can leave. Maiming's not so bad.

But worries are for people who can't pull grown men apart with their bare hands.

He moves and my eyes snap open, freezing him in place. "You're right. I am like you." I breathe, then shake my head very slowly, holding his eyes. "But that doesn't help you any.

As parties go, the food is good but the hosts are complete assholes.

The cold never bothers me when I'm filled with the hot soup of bad souls. Nevertheless I make a show of shivering. Chi strips off his leather vest and I hold it as he peels off his hoodie, pulling his shirt up with it. I get an eyeful of carved six-pack abs and bite back a whistle. Demon-hunting must be good for the physique. The looks of an angel and yet all it makes me want to do is sin.

A loyal demon? Who knew," Jo jeers, and I want to hit her.
"No," Armand's voice lashes out. "It's predictably selfish.