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.

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

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.

Admitting that Katie had taken too much blood was on par with saying an adult human had pooped their pants or eaten their own boogers!

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

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

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.