In diplomacy, like in great many other things, the rules of engagement survive only until one remarkable person decides to break them.

Outside the windows the day was bright: golden sunshine, blue sky, pleasant wind . . . I wanted to punch the happy day in the face, grab it by the hair, and beat it until it told me what the hell it was so happy about.

My mind struggled to formulate a coherent though, any thought. I opened my mouth. "Your pajamas have Eeyore on them." "I like Eeyore. He's sensible. A sober outlook on life never hurt anyone.

I've never seen such a collection of idiots in my whole life.' Doolittle shook his head. 'If you participate in this lunacy, y'all will get yourselves killed. Then don't come crying to me.' Now that would be a neat trick.

Shapeshifter parenting motto—if your kid slit somebody's throat, always have a backup plan to make the body disappear.

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.

I'm investigating people who sacrifice trained killers to dark gods. Perfect, it will keep him occupied. In what capacity? Bait.