The worst part was the silence. Death was supposed to be loud — gunshots, explosions, screams and thunder. Not this eerie quiet that wrapped around me like a shroud.

You love me?" He just looked at me for a moment. And then he reared back his head and laughed, a rich, mellow sound, unreserved and unashamed. " No, not at all. I regularly battle gods for women I dislike!

Where. Is. He?" Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like "Don't make me eat your face.

You will die a worse death if you do not leave my domain,” a voice thundered down from the third story of the old tenement. “I am a servant of the Sacred Fire, the wielder of the flame of Arnor—” “So I should call you Gandalf?

We're going jogging." "I don't run for recreation. I run when someone's after me with a weapon." "That can be arranged.

Then you must be willing to fight," Mircea responded. "Life is not a gift, Raphael; it's a challenge. Rise to it!

I narrowed my eyes at it. Ming-de’s little gift, I assumed. “You look better in color,” I snapped. He sent me a sultry look over his shoulder. “Really? Most women think I look better in nothing at all.