No. Harsh truth was better than comfortable lies. It had to be.

He obviously needed more practice, but no matter how often I abandoned him out there, his sense of direction never seemed to improve.

Maturity is highly overrated.

I was...a journalist...though my typical beat was freelancing articles on Canadian politics, which never included any mention of demonic phenomena, though it might explain the rise of the neoconservatives.

You're crying?" he said. "No, I- " I tore my gaze away. "Just dust. From the path. Simon's that way." I tried to pass him, but he stooped, trying to get a loom of my face. When I wouldn't let him, he caught my chin. I jerked back, flinching at his touch, heart thudding at it, too. I told myself Simon was wrong. I'd never be dumb enough to fall for Derek. But I had. With him so close, my stomach kept doing weird flips. It wasn't fear. It hadn't been fear for awhile. "You have been crying," he said, voice softer.

There are lots of things in the folklore, like they can only be killed by a silver bullet, that don't realistically work, if you're trying to say they have existed for hundreds of years, unknown.

Love and hate. Same passion. Same impulse