Because everything worth having hurts.

Pity is an emotion that can get you killed. The only thing more dangerous is blind hate, and maybe love.

Richard was a riddle with no answer, and I was tired of playing a game I couldn't win.

Do you really have the ability to control all types of undead?" Magnus asked. "Can you really make a hundred shoes in a single night?" I asked. Magnus smiled. "Wrong kind of fairie.

I tried to picture a young, insecure Edward and couldn't, but it was nice to know that once he'd been a boy. Sometimes it felt like Edward had sprung full grown from the head of some violent deity,like a vicious version of Athena.

He's no more human than I am, ma petite." At least I'm not dead." That can be remedied.

I locked the door, for what good it would do me, and went to bed. The Browning Hi-Power was in its second home, a modified holster strapped to the headboard of my bed. The crucifix was cool metal around my neck. I was as safe as I was going to be and almost too tired to care. I took one more thing to bed with me, a stuffed toy penguin named Sigmund. I don't sleep with him often, just every once in a while after someone tries to kill me. Everyone has their weaknesses. Some people smoke. I collect stuffed penguins. If you won't tell, I won't.