He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts? Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking. “Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely

John Matthew was her well of soul, as the symphaths called it,or her pyrocant, to the vampires. Her essential weakness.

In the Old Language, she hissed, “If any harm shall befall him, I will come after you, and find you where you sleep. I do not care where you lay your head or who with, my vengeance shall rain upon you until you drown.” That last word was drawn out, until its syllable was lost in more growling. Dead silence. Until Doc Jane said dryly, “Annnnd this is why they say the female of the species is more dangerous than the male.

I don't do farm animals. Can't stand hay in your leathers? Or wool in my teeth.

Good? No, that didn't go far enough. She'd made him feel… alive. Awakened.

Praying's not going to help. Too late for that, Jane...I gave you a chance to have it on your terms. Now we'll do this on mine

“Doesn't have to be easy to be right.” In that case, we're meant for each other.