“Exactly. These guys just want me to play Snow White singing in her little cottage while they do all the work.'
Lucy snorted. 'Snow White and the Seven Buttheads. You could give Disney a run for their money.'
Nicholas poked her in the ribs. 'I am not a singing dwarf!'
'No, you're a butthead. Weren't you paying attention?”
“Where's Lucy?" I asked the others.
"At the farmhouse," Nicholas said with grim satisfaction.
"How'd you manage that?"
"She's in a closet." Solange rolled her eyes.
I stared at Nicholas. "You locked your girlfriend in a closet? Smooth."
"She's going to eviscerate him," Quinn said cheerfully.”
“My parents want to do things differently. Dad's big on treaties.'
'And your mother?' Isabeau inquired.
'She's big on making grown men cry.”
“(Lucy to Isabeau)"
“Cool.” She tilted her head. “You don’t look crazy.”
“You’re like a runaway train,” Logan groaned at her. “Can’t you shut her up?” he asked his brother pleadingly.
“How?” Nicholas said somewhat helplessly.
“Kiss her, you idiot.”
“I can do this, Logan," she said confidently. "Kala trained me for this."
"What if something goes wrong? I can't exactly wave a magic wand over you. I'm not Harry Potter."
"Who?"
"Never mind.”
“Finally, a bit of luck. Rat bastard,' I hissed down at Montmartre. 'Mangy dog of a scurvy goat.'
'That doesn’t even make sense,' Isabeau murmured.
'Feels good though. Try it.'
She narrowed her eyes at the top of Montmartre’s perfectly groomed hair. 'Balding donkey’s ass.'
'Nice.'
'Sniveling flea-bitten rabid monkey droppings.'
'Clearly, you’re a natural.”
“Logan?'
'Yes?' I pulled my clothes back on even though the fabric stuck to my wounds. So much for trying to keep them clean.
'How did you know it wasn’t really me?'
'Are you kidding? Your eyeballs could be on fire and you wouldn’t bat your lashes at me like that.”
“Solange leaned back against the wall, bored. “Are you done yet?”
“Hell no,” Lucy said. She’d left nose prints on the glass. Nicholas smirked up at her. She blushed. “Ooops. Busted.”
“I told you they could hear your heartbeat,” Solange said.
“Even from up here.”
“I can’t help it. Even if they all know they’re pretty and are insufferably arrogant,” she added louder. “Can they hear that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She glanced at me. “Yummy, right?”
“I’m sure Isabeau would rather recover, not ogle my brothers,”
Solange said. “You remember how stressed you were after the Hypnos?”
“Please,” Lucy scoffed. “This is totally soothing.”
“Very possibly this was the night my white-knight complex, as Solange put it, would get me killed. Someone had better write a poem about it. It was only fair.”
“I might have been more worried if I hadn't been defending myself against six brothers my whole life. And if I didn't have a mother who thought she was a ninja.”
“Can I give you a word of advice?" Lucy asked.
"I suppose so."
"You have a great French accent. If a guy asks you to wear a French maid's costume, kick him in the shin."
"Especially if it's one of my brothers" Solange agreed.”
“I nodded. “Where’s your hunter?”
She flinched. “He went home. We thought it would be best.”
Her eyes went from worried to warning. “He’s under Drake protection.”
“So am I, or so I’ve been led to understand.”
“Of course you are,” Lucy said, her nose pressed to the window. “Misunderstanding. No big deal.”
Solange quirked a half smile. “You might try complete sentences, Lucy.”
“Can’t. Busy.”
I was curious despite myself. “What are you doing?”
“Drooling,” Solange explained fondly.”
“You are precious" I insisted. "Stubborn and secretive and independent to a fault, but precious.”
“We had a short reprieve as Dad cupped Mom’s face and ran
his hands down her neck, over her shoulders. “Helena, are you
hurt?”
She waved that away. “I’m fine.” She smiled briefly, then
turned hard eyes on us. Each of us took a healthy step
backward and not a single one of us felt any less manly for the
wise retreat.”
“Cross a small dog with a pig and you have a pug.”
“Logan,” one of them drawled. “Your technique’s slipping if you need dogs to keep them from running away.”
-----------
“Why are you on the floor?”
“Hypnos,” I said.
Quinn snorted. “Dude, Hypnos and dogs? I thought you were the one who was supposed to be good with the girls, Darcy?”
“I nodded. “Where’s your hunter?”
She flinched. “He went home. We thought it would be best.”
Her eyes went from worried to warning. “He’s under Drake protection.”
“So am I, or so I’ve been led to understand.”
“Of course you are,” Lucy said, her nose pressed to the window. “Misunderstanding. No big deal.”
Solange quirked a half smile. “You might try complete sentences, Lucy.”
“Can’t. Busy.”
I was curious despite myself. “What are you doing?”
“Drooling,” Solange explained fondly.
“I totally am,” Lucy admitted, unrepentant. “Just look at them.”
Lucy moved over to give me space. She was watching five of the seven Drake boys repairing the outside wall of the farmhouse, under our window."
"Solange leaned back against the wall, bored. “Are you done yet?”
“Hell no,” Lucy said. She’d left nose prints on the glass. Nicholas smirked up at her. She blushed. “Ooops. Busted.”
“I told you they could hear your heartbeat,” Solange said.
“Even from up here.”
“I can’t help it. Even if they all know they’re pretty and are insufferably arrogant,” she added louder. “Can they hear that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She glanced at me. “Yummy, right?”
“I’m sure Isabeau would rather recover, not ogle my brothers,”
Solange said. “You remember how stressed you were after the Hypnos?”
“Please,” Lucy scoffed. “This is totally soothing.”
“It was a beautiful night, warm and filled with stars and the songs of crickets and frogs. White flowers glowed in the grass. It was a night made for poetry. We should have been kissing. A lot.
Instead we were sneaking out of the caves to a blood-soaked clearing where we’d been ambushed not twenty-four hours earlier. Not exactly an ordinary date.”
“He … loves her. Well, he’s crushing on her anyway.”
I didn’t know the term but I understood its meaning well enough. I sighed. “I thought she’d be smarter.”
He raised his eyebrows. “She’s plenty smart.” He looked thoughtful. “You don’t believe in love then?”
“No.” I wanted to look away, couldn’t. “I don’t know.”
“Lucy said, her nose pressed to the window. “Misunderstanding. No big deal.”
Solange quirked a half smile. “You might try complete sentences, Lucy.”
“Can’t. Busy.”
I was curious despite myself. “What are you doing?”
“Drooling,” Solange explained fondly.
“I totally am,” Lucy admitted, unrepentant. “Just look at them.”
Lucy moved over to give me space. She was watching five of the seven Drake boys repairing the outside wall of the farmhouse, under our window.”
“My brothers are idiots.
Anyone can see that under the scars and the attitude, Isabeau is more fragile than she looks. And as a reclusive Hound princess, her first introduction to the royal family shouldn’t be a dose of Hypnos and four idiots gawking at her.
If I’d managed not to gawk, they sure as hell could have. She was beautiful, fierce, and utterly unlike anyone I’d ever known.
It was really hard not to gawk.
Much better to pace outside her door with one of our Bouviers sitting at the top of the stairs watching me curiously.
“This sucks, Boudicca,” I told her. “I don’t think we inherited Dad’s diplomacy.”
She laid her chin on her paws. I could have sworn she rolled her eyes.”
“I have to console myself with the hope that I'd seen Isabeau soften, even hesitate, as if she might actually have taken my arm. It was suddenly very easy to picture her in a gown with petticoats and ringlets in her hair and diamonds at her throat. It was just as easy to picture Magda with horns and pitchfork." - Logan, page 95”
“How did you know it wasn't really me?"
"Are you kidding? Your eyeballs could be on fire and you wouldn't bat your lashes at me like that.”
“I leaped toward her, landing behind her to guard her back before the Hel-Blar reached us. She shot me a half-surprised, half-grateful glance. The moon glinted on her sword and the chain mail sewn into the leather of her tunic, over her heart.
“Stay close,” I told her.
She snorted. “I have a sword and you have a butter knife. Staying close is about your only option.”
“Anlasilan tehlikenin ne demek oldugunu bile bilmiyorlar.Tehlike deyince,gazetelerin abartarak yazdigi fiziksel anlamdaki yaralanma, biraz kan akmasi gibi seyleri getiriyorlar akillarina. Bunun tehlikeyle hic ilgisi yok. Gercek tehlike yasama eyleminin ta kendisidir. Hic kuskusuz yasamak,varolusun farklilastigi bir kargasadir. Fakat varolusu her an aslinda oldugu duzensiz haline cozumleyip ortaya cikan endiseden hareketle, her an ilk kargasayi yeniden yaratmaya calisan kacik bir eylemdir yasamak. Bu denli tehlikeli baska bir is daha olamaz. Varolusun kendinde hicbir korku ya da hicbir ortulu yan yoktur, bu korku ve tedirginligi yaratanyasamak eylemidir. Ve toplum,kokende anlamsizdir,kadin erkek bir arada yikanilan Roma hamamlari gibidir. Okul da toplumun minyaturudur. Bu yuzden bize boyuna buyruk veriyorlar.Bir avuc kor adam, bize ne yapmamiz gerektigini soyluyor,sinirsiz yeteneklerimizi paramparca ediyor.”
“Only the strongest are put through the fire,' Josiah said. 'And the forge creates things of great strength and beauty.'
'Then I shall be truly glorious by the time my tenure ends.”
“Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. Today’s risks are different. The new rebels might be artists willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the “Oh how banal.” To risk accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Of overcredulity. Of softness. Of willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows.”
“The sperm whales' network of female-based family unit resembled, to a remarkable extent, the community the whalemen had left back home on Nantucket. In both societies the males were itinerants. In their dedication to killing sperm whales the Nantucketers had developed a system of social relationships that mimicked those of their prey.”
“That evening it was announced that curfew would be postponed until midnight, so that the families of those ‘sent for labour’ would have time to bring them blankets, a change of underwear and food for the journey. This ‘magnanimity’ on the part of the Germans was truly touching, and the Jewish police made much of it in an effort to win our confidence. Not until much later did I learn that the thousand men rounded up in the ghetto had been taken straight to the camp at Treblinka, so that the Germans could test the efficiency of the newly built gas chambers and crematorium furnaces.”
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