I didn't save you," he whispers, lips tickling my eyelashes. "You saved me.

It's like a cockroach working up a plan to defeat the shoe on its way down to crush it.

There's an old saying about truth setting you free. Don't buy it. Sometimes the truth slams the cell door shut and throws a thousand bolts.

We are the hunters---and we are also the bait.

Prayers and promises. The one his sister made to him. The unspoken one I made to my sister. Prayers are promises, too, and these are the days of broken promises.

And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime. That is not the color of red at all.

A miscalculation is not negligence, nor prudence a crime. I am a scientist. I base my action or inaction upon probability and evidence. There is a reason we call science a discipline! Inferior minds bolt or build pyres to roast the witches in their midst!