You need a name.” I covered the receiver for a moment. “We need a team name.” “Hunters,” Raphael said. “Valiant Knights of the Fur,” Dali said. “Justice Group,” Jim said. “Since Justice League is taken.” “Fools.” Doolittle shook his head. “Fools,” I said into the receiver.

True strength isn’t in killing—or ignoring—your opponent, it’s in having the will to shield those who need your protection.

As I walked back to civilization, I realized that for the first time in the six months I had known Curran, we had managed to have a conversation and part ways without wanting to kill each other. I found that fact deeply troubling.

You're screening your calls?" "Why not? It saves me from conversations with idiots." "Is that an insult?" His voice dropped into a deep growl. "You're not an idiot," I told him. "You're just a deadly psychopath with a god complex.(...)

Did he just rip out the engine?" I asked. "Yes", Saiman said. "And now he is demolishing the Maserati with it." Ten seconds later Curran hurled the twisted wreck of black and orange that used to be the Maserati into the wall. The first melodic notes of an old song came from the computer. I glanced at Saiman. He shrugged. "It begged for a soundtrack.

Butterflies were small and light, and very magic sensitive. For some reason I made them feel safe and they gravitated to me like iron shavings to a magnet. They ruined my ferocious badass image, but you'd have to be a complete beast to swat butterflies.

And did you have to hack his arms off?” “Yes, I did. He wouldn’t go through the door.” “You say it like you’re proud of it." I was proud of it. It was an example of quick thinking in a difficult situation.