There's a saying I remember from my grandmother: One today is worth two tomorrows.

Dogs, dogs, go away, let me live another day.

Fang’s hand gently smoothed my hair off my neck. My breath froze in my chest, and every sense seemed hyperalert. His hand stroked my hair again, so softly, and then trailed across my neck and shoulder and down my back, making me shiver. I looked up. “What the heck are you doing?” “Helping you change your mind,” he whispered, and then he leaned over, tilted my chin up, and kissed me.

She didn't flirt with him, but they hung out together a lot, and every time I saw their heads bent over a computer screen or map, it made my stomach clench. And my teeth. And my fists.

In a manner of speaking. As we intend for you to found a dynasty. And that dynasty will rule society until it has progressed enough to-" "Overthrow the dynasty in a revolutionary, blood filled coup!" Iggy said eagerly. We all looked at him. "Just saying." He sheepishly took a bite of cookie.

What, eBay isn't good enough for us?

Why was the blind guy playing with matches, you ask? Because he's good at it. Anything to do with fire, igniting things, exploding things, things with fuses, wicks, accelerants . . . Iggy's your man. It's one of those good/bad things.