I came to the table, pulled up a chair, and sat. “Everyone brought a pet. I feel left out.” An enthusiastic howl broke the silence, and Grendel bounded through the doorway. He galloped through the steak house, skidded on the floor, smashed into my chair, and dropped a dead rat on my lap. Awesome.

You sure you don’t want me to stay? I’ll make you coffee and ask you about your day.

Cute. I think I would prefer to be stabbed in the eye rather than be called cute.

I've got a gig," Jim said. I sat up in my bed, wide-awake. A gig was good- I needed the money. "Half." "Third." "Half." "Thirty-five percent." Jim's voice hardened. "Half." The phone went silent as my former Guild partner mulled it over. "Okay, forty." I hung up.(...) The phone rang. I let it ring twice before I picked it up. "Fine." Jim's voice had a hint of a snarl in it. "Half.

What did you write on here? ‘Don’t die’?” “No, I wrote, ‘Don’t be an asshole!’”I headed for the house. “On yours or mine?” “On yours.” “Well, in that case, your magic isn’t working. I’m still an asshole.

No. I don't go through your things. I just come once in a while to make sure you're in one piece. I like knowing you're safe, asleep in your bed. I haven't stolen anything.

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.