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Kresley Cole

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“Looking at you reminds me of the kind of man I should be with." "And what kind of man is that? Drunken, poor, pathetic?" "No. I´ve never met him, but I see him plain as day. He has crinkles around his eyes when he smiles and tanned skin from working outdoors. Honest labor has callused his hands. He and I will hunt together, cook and eat big family meals together. He´ll marry me and love my family, too." Voice gone soft, she said, "He´ll give me a baby boy and a girl.”

“Dear puss, Is this all you've got? Why don't you strap on your big girl panties and come face me yourself? Unless you fear that the Nixanator will spank Omort's wittle bottom. By the way, you've taken one of the most respected leaders in our army. We're going to want him back. Especially since Sabine can't break him. Bringing it, Nix the Ever-Knowing, Soothsayer Without Equal, General of the New Army of Vertas”

“He's like six hundred years younger than you are. I refuse to be the moral compass of our cell! Most weekends I have an intoxispell bong attached to my mouth like a respirator. I love scatological humor, and I list 'pranks involving nuclear waste' and 'making demons eat things' as my hobbies.”

“You’ll call for me. You’ll be lonely in your new quarters and will feel out of sorts. I could let you pet my hair until you fell asleep.” He drew in closer and lowered his voice to ask in all seriousness, “You’re mad, aren’t you?” “As—a—hatter,” she whispered back conspiratorially. He felt a hint of sympathy for the creature. “How long have you been in here?” “For four long...interminable...days.” He glowered at her. “Which is why I want you to take me with you. I don’t eat much.” The dungeon erupted with laughter again. (Myst and Nikolai)”

“How do you plan to keep me here during the day? An unblooded Forbearer shouldn’t be so hard to vanquish.” Vanquished by her? Amusing. “I’ll send you back to the cell. You want to be my pet? I’ll take you out and put you back in your cage at my pleasure.” She blinked at him. “You don’t want to send me back. Who will entertain you? I can deal poker and make shadow animals.”

“What are the Hanged Man’s powers?” I tried to remember more about that player. “I don’t know,” Aric admitted. “I’ve never faced him, nor seen him mentioned in any chronicles I’ve read. The Star had his icon in the last game. But did the Arcane Navigator take it himself, or harvest it from another?” Aric rotated his shot glass on his desk blotter. “The Hanged Man remains a mystery. That is why he’s called uncanny. In this game, all have been accounted for, but for him.” “Then he’s the inactivated card?” One Arcana was dormant—until he or she killed another player. “Matthew told me to beware of that player but wouldn’t reveal an identity.”

“You read about people like you in myths and in the Lore, struggling with their gifts. But it's the struggle that brings greatness. If your powers came easily to you, without incident, you would never appreciate them as you should. And you would no' be a good leader because you would be impatient with others who did have to work hard. It never comes easy to the great warriors in history.”

“Lark frowned. “I thought she was associated with fate. Her Arcana name’s Our Lady of Fate.” “As she desired it to be,” he said. “But it’s a very liberal translation.” I’d thought these Arcana things were set in stone. Now the goalposts were moving. He downed that shot, then poured another. “She appears to control fate, but she doesn’t have any influence over what happens to her. Her power is passive. She doesn’t read the future and consciously affect it—not like the Fool does.” Aric’s gaze grew distant. “Ages ago, Fortune was known more accurately as Lady Luck. The Fool was known as the Hand of Fate. She despised him for that and envied his power.”

“That is righteous, blondie! Hey, we need to come up with superhero names. How about capes—and codpieces? Just think about the idea for now, chew it over for a bit, let me know,” he said. “Hey, do you guys ever hear . . . voices?” I groaned. “All the time. I thought I was going crazy.” “Duude,” he said in agreement. “And before the Flash, all kinds of freaky shit was happening to me. I started speaking this weird language. And stuff started transforming—but only in front of me. I saw my cat walking on the ceiling, saw lava coming out of a faucet. The worst? I was doing this girl, and suddenly she looked like my gym teacher!” He shuddered. And I’d thought I had it bad. Matthew and Finn had also suffered. “What’d your parents think?” I asked, wondering if Finn had gotten institutionalized too. “Dad couldn’t handle my ‘erratic behavior’ anymore, so he pawned me off on Mom. Same result. They were just about to break out the straitjacket—or, worse, military school—when she got the brilliant idea to ship me from Malibu to North Carolina to rough it with my redneck cousins.” So Matthew and I hadn’t been the only ones deemed “damaged” by our folks. It made sense, though. I wondered what Selena’s story was. “Yeah, Mom figured they’d toughen me up mentally,” Finn said. “I can’t even make this shit up. Mental health—through the chugging of Natty Light, the chasing of hot hick ass, and the killing of ducks and bucks.”

“Why did bad boys like Jackson Deveaux always attract girls like Evie? It'd been that way at my high school. The only attention I had received from pretty girls was their laughter when I’d shown up for class with a busted lip or an awkward new cast. They’d spurned me for things I could not control. I remind myself that I took control of my parents – and I no longer have to worry about attracting a girl’s attention; I have a captive audience of beautiful females. Yes, these days Arthur gets all the girls. I keep them in my basement. I nearly chuckle.”

“Arthur, I…I’d just been released from a mental institution.' She looks up at me from under he lashes, gauging my reaction while seeming to dread it. I just stop my jaw from dropping. 'Mental institution?' I’d been sick the last quarter of my sophomore year, so my mom made me go to a clinic in Atlanta.' This girl’s been heaven-sent for me! I, too, had been sick. Until I’d tested my concoctions on myself, eventually discovering a cure.”

“…Jackson muttered to me, ‘Bedlam.’ I was beginning to understand his compulsion to solve puzzles. Every few feet, a new mystery taunted me. An eighteen wheeler lay atop a house. On my right, someone had painstakingly nailed a wedding dress and veil to a front door. A dingy sleeve waved in the wind. To my left, a dead man and young boy were positioned in a front yard, as if they’d been making snow angels in the ash right up to the end. On the side of a dumpster, someone had spray-painted: Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn…Whatever.”

“In the pool, I thought you were asking me if I wanted more kissing – then the next thing I see is a condom? You couldn’t have cared less if I was freaked out because you skipped over all the bases I’d thought to expect, or nervous about your ancient-looking protection or – or not ready to go that fast! In general. I didn’t expect you to declare, like, love for me forever or anything. But for my first time, I’d hoped for more than ‘It’s slim pickings out there.”

“Holly's forgiven you?" "Almost mostly. But she still gives me slack about it when she's sick. I take it as a husbandly badge," he said, puffing out his chest. "Sick? You told me she was fully immortal." "Yeah, but she still throws up some, because, well, the thing of it is... Ah, fuck, Rydstrom, I knocked her up." "You're going to be a father?" Gods help the world. I'm going to be an uncle? "I got Holly, like, on the first shot. Nix is calling me Bull's-eye and the Womb Raider.”

“Just before his lips reached hers, she jerked her head back to whip it forward into his nose. A Glasgow kiss. Distinct cracking sounded. With his nose pouring blood, he squeezed her upper arms, "Holly, what the fuck—" Using all her strength, she hiked her knee up between his legs. His hands flew to cup his groin as his knees met the ground. "You're right, Cadeon." She dusted off her hands. "That really was fun.”