We were watching Barrons. Why were you watching Barrons? Barrons needs watching.

No way. I'm not going in there. I draw the line at grave-robbing, Barrons. It's not your pen.

Fire isn’t good or bad. It just burns.

It was a land of shadows and ice. Of gray. And grayer. And black. -The Unseelie prison of Aedan

Oh, please," I rolled my eyes, "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmured.

When Drustan reached the bottom step, she flung herself into his arms. He swung her up into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. By the time he'd finished, she was gasping for air and laughing. "My turn?" Dageus teased.

When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&B—first left on the Dark Zone side—and disappears, I melt down in a fit of the giggles. I toss a rock at the spot where he vanished. It bounces off the brick and clatters to the cobblestone. I'm feeling twenty shades of Harry Potter's train station, especially when he pokes his head out of the wall and says impatiently, "Come on, lass. This is hardly my favorite place to be.