You don't have to shout from the mountaintops. Sometimes power comes in a soft, calm, compassionate way, like a quiet warrior.

I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.

But nothing in life was set in stone and nothing in life is promised us. Not happiness, not joy, not love. Everything was variable and mutable and inconstant.

Alarm stole over me on little kitten feet.

Vamps who are dying, or think they are, give a piercing, eardrum-bursting shriek, like the love child of a screech owl and a mountain lion on crystal meth, amplified like a seventies rock band.

It looked to me like a vamp version of a pissing contest. Men will be boys.

Beast had once informed me that humans were hunters only by luck and because they had opposable thumbs.