I would rather you love me, but if not love, fear will do.

I turned down Halloween parties every year, where people wanted zombies raised at the stroke of midnight or some such nonsense. The scarier my reputation got, the more people wanted me to come be scary for them. I'd told Bert I could always go and threaten to shoot all the partygoers, that'd be scary. Bert had not been amused. But he had stopped asking me to do parties.

I looked at Micah, who shrugged. I looked at Rafael, who shook his head. Nice that none of us knew why he was undressing.

How could you love someone and not want them to be happy?

There's Only so much emotional super glue in a person's soul, that everything just stays broken.

Should I eat first or accuse the Master of the City of murder? Choices, choices. -Anita

Because all bad little vampires see me in the end