I should’ve been furious, but for some reason I wasn’t. Maybe because I knew he was telling the truth. Maybe because Voron left me just like that, without the much-needed explanations. Maybe because things I had learned about him since his death had made me doubt everything he’d ever said to me. Whatever the case, I felt only a hollow, crushing sadness. How touching. I understood my adoptive father’s killer. Maybe after this was over, Hugh’s head and I could sing “Kumbaya” together by the fire.

If my luck held, it wouldn't be a handsome Greek demigod looking for the love of his life or at least his love of a couple of hours.

Sure, I didn't weigh a hundred and ten pounds , but my narrow waist let me bend and I could break a man's neck with my kick.

Keeping you safe keeps me in shape.

Curran and I mixed about as well as glycerin and nitric acid: put us together, shake a bit, and hit the deck as we exploded.

I flexed my wrist, popped a silver needle into my palm, and offered it to him. 'What's this?' 'A needle.' 'What should I do with it?' He'd walked right into it. Too easy. 'Please use it to pop your head. It's obscuring my view of the room.' - Kate & Saiman

I'm a substitute mom." "You're more like a crazy aunt who only gets called when somebody needs bailing out of jail.