The look she gave me reminded me of when is was seven and I'd proudly informed out housekeeper that I'd donated half my clothing to a charity drive at school. It had seemed perfectly sensible to me-I didn't need so much stuff-but she'd stared at me like Margaret was now, with a mix of horror and disbelief.

Demon, angel, all the same thing if you go back far enough, or cut deep enough.

Rae burned me. She has matches or something. Look, look..." Tori pulled down the collar of her T-shirt. "Leave your cloths on, Tori," Simon said, raising his hands to his eyes. "Please.

Reviews are great. I can read negative reviews and say, You know that point they made... they were dead on.

A girl my age had been murdered in these woods and I'd seen her last terrified moments, watched her bleed to death in this forest. A life like mine had ended here, and it didn't matter how many times I'd seen deaths in movies, it wasn't the same, and I wasn't ever going to forget it.

Oh, my God! It's a killer Pomeranian." I glanced up at Derek. "It's a tough call, but I think you can take him.

His gaze travelled down me, then zipped back to my face. "Sorry." "Focus, Rafe." "I am. Just on the wrong thing.