A crowd is an elemental thing. A word, a glance, and a crowd becomes a mob.

Who would have ever thought I'd be afraid of a zombie, any kind of zombie? Nicely ironic that.

You're up to something," I said. He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?" "Yeah, you.

But we were all young once. It passes, like innocence and a sense of fair play. The only thing left in the end is a good instinct for survival.

Methinks we have a clue. Be still, my heart.

He made a small sigh, as he swallowed the first blood, then his mouth closed over my earlobe, mouth working at the wound, tongue coaxing blood from the wound. He pressed his body the length of mine, one hand cupping my turned head, the other playing down the line of my body. Maybe it was just blood, but I never stroked my steak while eating it.

Children make that big a difference to you? He asked. I nodded. Yeah, they do. I never figured you as the maternal type. I'm not, but kids are people, Edward, little people trapped by the choices the adults around them make.