I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up. He called it his second smile.

Holly: Seriously, you don't like unicorns? What kind person doesn't like unicorns? Justine: What kind of a person doesn't like zombies? What have zombies ever done to you? Holly: Zombies shamble. I disapprove of shambling. And they have bits that fall off. You never see a unicorn behaving that way. Justine: I shamble. Bits fall off me all the time: hair, skin cells. Are you saying you disapprove of me?

Let her alone,' said the enkanto, 'or I will curse you blind, lame, and worse.' The old man laughed. 'I'm a curse breaker, fool.' The elf grabbed one of the Jim Beam bottles from the table and slammed it down, so that he was holding a jagged glass neck. The elf smiled a very thin smile. 'Then I won't bother with magic.

Little mouse," a voice said through the keyhole. "Don't you know the more you wriggle, the greater the cat's delight?

Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels.

You are the best kind of killer, Cassel Sharpe, the kind that never has blood on his hands. The kind that never has to sicken at the sight of what he's done, or come to like it too much.

She says that what you did was a cry for help." "It was," I say. "That's why I was yelling 'Heeeelp!' I don't really go in for subtlety.