I sighed. "And what am I to you, Al?" "My maid," he said brightly. "Shall we do this?

Tears could not be equal, if I wept diamonds from the skies," Jenks whispered, empty and bereft. "My word silent, though I should howl. Muffled by death, my wings can't lift me high enough to find you. I feel you within. Unaware of my pain. Not knowing why I mourn. And why I breathe alone.

She was only a year old, but elves grew up fast. Not like witches, who Jenks swore were not able to be on their own until they were thirty. Ahem.

I like the second better, but the first fits with the vampire watching what she can’t have.” I blinked. “What he can’t have,” I amended, flushing.

Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.

Teens like a lot of the same things adults do: smart people doing amazing things against awful odds.

You just click your heels and think there's no place like being pwned.