Jeremy had a plan for getting Clay back and I wasn't allowed to know anything about it or allowed to help him carry it out. As one might expect, I accepted this news with grace and understanding. "That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" I snarled for the dozenth time that hour. "I won't just sit here and do nothing.

You're telling me that you can raise the dead by simply summoning?" "Yes." "My God," she whispered, staring at me."What have they done?" Hearing her words and seeing her expression, I knew I'd just done something worse than raising the dead-- I'd confirmed her worst fears about us. In her eyes, I saw the same thing I saw when people looked at Derek. I saw fear. And I knew we were in trouble.

I might be half Derek's size, but I was the one who sounded like a two-hundred-pound beast plowing through the woods.

One second he was in my face, making me feel stupid and useless. The next he was like this: hovering, concerned, worried.

He leaned her back against the tub, setting her head on the edge, then washed her shoulders. "I know I left you once." She opened her mouth, wanting to say it didn't matter, it was forgotten. But it wasn't. "I know I hurt you." Again, she wanted to argue. But she couldn't. "I know I said I won't leave you again, but I also know that's not enough, and that the only way you're going to trust that I won't leave is if I don't". He slid the cloth over her arms. "If this ends, Hope, it won't be me that ends it. I think you know that.

If it gets too bad, go. I’ll understand.” I won’t.

The rottweiler stood his ground and waited for me to take the next step in the dance of ritualized intimidation. Instead, I leaped at him. Screw ritual. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.