It took a qualified wizard to detect a summoning in progress. It required only a half-literate idiot with a twitch of power and a dim idea of how to use it to attempt one. Before you knew it, a three-headed Slavonic god was wreaking havoc in downtown Atlanta, the skies were raining winged snakes, and SWAT was screaming for more ammo.

The universe shrank to Curran and his pain. I had to break him free. Nothing else mattered.

Curran struck at my wrist. His fingers were cat-quick, but I had spent my life honing my reflexes, and he missed. “Well, look at that.” I studied my free wrist. “Denied. Good-bye

What is he doing here?" Curran growled. "He's Roland's Warlord. He's here for me." He was here for the woman who had broken his master's blade. "Tough luck. You're mine.

Do you know what separates adults from children? Self-discipline. We don’t want to go to work, we don’t want to do our chores, and we don’t want to make unpleasant decisions, but we do all those things because we’re aware of the consequences which will follow if we don’t.

Oh my God, she was retarded and I was going to kill Jim.

One day, she’d find a way to live her life to the fullest. She was sure of it. She just had no idea how she would manage it.