I’m a cat. We aren’t required to make sense.

My name is October Christine Daye; I live in a city by the sea where the fog paints the early morning, parking is more precious than gold, and Kelpies wait for the unwary on street corners. Neither of the worlds I live in is quite mine, but no one can take them away from me. I did what had to be done, and I think I may finally be starting to understand what's important. It's all about finding the way home, wherever that is. I plan on finding out. I have time.

When Rome burned, the emperor's cats still expected to be fed on time.

I wanted the truth, and I wanted the news, and I'd be damned before I settled for anything less.

One man's trash is another man's treasure is a third man's raw materials for their planet-buster earthquake machine.

There's no such thing as a normal life. Some lives are just more interesting than others, and we shouldn't judge people for being boring.

It’s lovely,” I said, taking an involuntary half step back. “Really, though. I don’t like to handle other people’s cookware.” “That’s the best you can manage? That’s your bright, bold lie?” “Look, lady, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had somebody corner me on a dark street and try to hand me a frying pan before,” I snapped.