But a slow, deeply satisfied smile came over him, and his breath quickened. 'So softly it starts,' he whispered. 'Foolishly clever and with an unsurvivable trust. It just saved your miserable life, that questionable show of thought, my itchy-witch.' Al’s smile shifted, becoming lighter. 'And now you will live to possibly regret it.

Growing up is hard, love. Otherwise everyone would do it.

Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al's sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.

I want one thing I can point to and say, 'that is good, and it's a part of me.'

Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you’re going to do?” My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.

Was using “dead-man’s-toe” morally okay if the man’s relatives had knowingly sold him for parts?

You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?” Al said in wonder. “At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!” he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. “Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing.