I tried to breathe, failing. I clutched her to me, tears slipping from under my closed eyes. It was as if her soul was liquid fire and I could feel her aura, swirling about mine. She was taking my aura. But I wanted to give it to her, to cat her in a small part of me and protect her. Her needs made her so fragile.

Nothing is so hard that it can't be found by searching.

I’d given up on the white picket fence after Kisten had died—finding out my kids would be demons was the nail in the coffin.

I grew up reading SF in the 70s and 80s, and I like fast, thought-provoking plots that take you places in fully realized worlds.

I think she suspects something, though. We’ve had cherry pie for dessert five nights in a row.” His voice drawled, and my smile deepened.

Kisten, please don't leave me," I begged, and his eyes opened. "I'm cold," he said, fear rising in his blue eyes. I held him tighter. "I'm holding you. It's going to be okay." "Tell Ivy," he said with a gasp, clenching in on himself. "Tell Ivy that it wasn't her fault. And tell her that at the end... you remember love. I don't think... we lose our souls... at all. I think God keeps them for us until we... come home. I love you, Rachel." "I love you, too, Kisten," I sobbed, and as I watched, his eyes, memorizing my face, silvered, and he died.

For all his sourness, he was ruled by his heart.