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

You said you were allowed to lose it,' some part of her reminded herself. 'Not yet, not yet.

Poisonous jealousy thrummed through my veins.

I haven't had a very good day. I think I might still be hung over and everyone's dead and my root beer's gone.

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.

Once someone's hurt you, it's harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn't stop you from wanting them.

Let me look out for you. Let your enemies become mine.