I tended to be more a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic.

Hank had left me his doomed army, and he’d left Marcie his inheritance. Unfair didn’t begin to cover it.

I tended to be more a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic.

You've got food stuck in your teeth," Vee told Marcie. "In the crack between your two front teeth. Looks like chocolate Ex-Lax.

Arrogance can be deadly.” The corners of his mouth crept up. “But you didn’t hear me say that.

You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal." The boy's dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey's. "Half fallen angel." Chauncey's tutor's voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn't entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. "Who are you?

Being nice? He’s being horny.