I can't hate people that much. Don't get me wrong. I want to murder every last Keeper I can find. But that's not hate. That's vengeance.

Rumors said that if he got drunk enough, he sometimes got his jollies by stripping naked and scaring hikers out in the Broken into thinking he was Bigfoot.

Shane lowered his glasses on his nose and gave me his version of a severe stare. I leaned a little toward Luther. "Is this the part where I faint in fear?" Luther bit his lip. "He might also accept falling to your knees and holding your hands in humble supplication. Makes it easier for him to slap the cuffs on.

Ve haf vays of making you gif us your DNA sample.

Cajun stomp?" "You heard me, swamper. And keep your hands to yourself.

He gave an impression of coiled power, a contained violence that if released, would explode with terrifying intensity.

Why couldn't she have gotten another Edger or some dimwit from the Broken for a passenger? No, she got Lord Leather Pants here.