She wasn't feeling nothing. She was feeling too much. She was blocking it all out. That was a survival skill, and her still-beating heart was proof that it worked.

If she were going to die, I'd already be screaming. I'm a female bean sidhe. That's what we do.

There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.

"Hey, do you wanna go out for..." His words melted with a sigh when he noticed Tod, but then he rallied with a smile. "Hi, Tod, I didn't realise you were here. In my daughter's bedroom. With the door closed." "Happy to be here," Tod said, and I groaned out loud.

Emma and I had both died twice, and for me, that second one actually stuck. Now I was a "resurrected American," better known, in colloquial terms, as life-challenged. Or undead. Or the living dead. But I'm not a zombie. I'm just a little less alive than your average high school junior.

A smart woman would have shut up. Did I? Hell no. Intelligence is overrated anyway.

Wow. What would you do if I said I was angry?' 'I would make fire rain from the heavens to smite your enemies with the flames of our shared rage.