Maryse sighed."Nothing conclusive.If only the dead could talk,eh,Lucian?

She had never imagined that the kiss would be so brief and desperate and wild. Or that it would taste of holy water. Holy water and blood.

And I'm suppose to sit by while you date boys and fall in love with someone else, get married...?" His voice tightened. "And meanwhile, I'll die a little bit more every day, watching.

It was a bit warm. Still. If one could look this fabulous, one had an obligation to. One should wear everything, or one should wear nothing at all.

Bloodthirsty little beasts. Never trust a duck.- William Herondale

Catching sight of himself in the long mirrors that ran along the walls, he stiffened in shock...His eyes were surrounded by black shadows, his shirt smeared with dried blood and filthy mud... "Admiring yourself?" The Inquisitor's voice cut through his reverie. "You won't look so pretty when the Clave gets through with you." "You do seem obsessed with my look...Could it be that you're attracted to me?" "Don't be revolting...You could be my son.

No one can say that death found in me a willing comrade, or that I went easily.