I walked over and picked up one of the jugs. "What's this? Some kind of Caster disinfectant?" Lena took it out of my hand and lined it up with the others. "Yeah, it's called bleach.

There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.

There's something about sitting alone in the dark that reminds you how big the world really is, and how far apart we all are.

I may have been a Wayward, but my way was full of people who loved me. They were the only way I knew

She had the power to destroy. I had only seen the power to love. When you discovered both, who could figure out what to do with that?

Books?" Ridley looked disgusted. "Carry?

I believe the term you’re searching for is smoking jacket. I find, now that I have whole days of sunshine ahead of me, I’ve discovered there is more to life than formal haberdashery.