Demon from the Dark

He'd swiftly collected those monsters' heads, tying them together with a piece of the rope she'd hoped never to see again, then strung them over his shoulder. Periodically, he offered his catch to her. "No, no, I have a pair just like them at home," she'd said. "I would just regift them.

Look, it's not you. It's me, and my inability to dig dirty dudes.

Two things that can never be contained? Velociraptors and zombies. ~Carrow Graie

I think I just fell into like with him.

Ara?" She jerked her face up. "Huh? Where were we?" But his expression had grown serious, the lesson forgotten. He interlaced his fingers and said, "We are bound." "Bound?" He collected a piece of rope, knotting it. "Oh, you mean bound?" He gave a nod, then drew in the sand. An infinity symbol? "Clever demon, how did you know that...?" He was gazing at her with a question in his eyes. "Bound forever?" And somehow she met his gaze and lied, "Yes, demon. Bound forever." As if to make her feel guiltier, he gathered her into his arms, cupping her face against his broad chest. His voice a deep rumble, he said, "Carrow is Malkom's." She wanted to sob. "Yes?" "Yes," she answered, wishing that it could be so simple between them. Demon meets girl. Girl might be falling for demon.

She'd never seen a monster like that before, had never heard of one in all the Lore. When she grappled with the question of what it was, her sharply honed scientifical mind deduced one answer: manbearpig.

Last night, Dixon had suggested combat boots in place of Carrow’s own—her two-thousand-dollar, gathered-leather, over-the-knee boots. “Do you want me to go in as an enchantress or a warrior?” Carrow had asked testily. “Pick a caste, any caste, mortal. I myself think I have the best chance as an enchantress. And fuck-me boots are standard-issue.

This was full when I left. Demon, did you eat some of my toothpaste?

Why don't you just buy me a minivan, zip me into mom jeans, and shoot me in the face" - Melanthe the potential Queen of Persuasions:

I'm on a man-fast. Why bother with them? the good ones are always taken. Or they're weirdly uminterested in a capricious wild child with continuous legal problems~ Carrow the Incarcerated

Hey! When he dug into it, rifling through her things, she snapped, "Go Yoda someone else's supplies, asshole.

You're not leaving me behind. Or I'll do a spell to make you smell like ass. Forever.

Those who betray me do it only once.

Like the vampire Lothaire, the Enemy of Old, with his white-blond hair and eerily sinister hotness.

Carrowicus much drunkicus or Hot-assicus in my greedy handsicus.

The demon was turning out to be an unpredictable, feral, bone-and-head-collecting, sexually ravenous happiness battery. She swallowed. All I have to do is plug him in.

What would Ripley do? When in a jam, Carrow often thought of how Ellen Ripley, the legendary badasstress of the Alien quadrilogy, would figure her way out.

So help her, if Pig-Pen was a blond . . .

Crow, are you awake?” “Why do kids ask that when they know you’re not?” She cracked open her bleary eyes. “No. Really.

He’d had no family. Hers didn’t deserve her. Then we will be family. Never will I be separated from her.

What do they want?” “They want all the freaks dead. Funny. I don’t

feel like a freak. Unless le freak, c’est chic?” She shrugged. “To be fair, they only rise up whenever immortals do.

Dreams to come, dreams to come true.

His female didn’t belong in this foul place. And since he belonged with her, then neither did he. He didn’t care what he had to do, he’d find a way to get her home.

If a demon and a vampire mated, their offspring would be unique but in harmony, like a Labrador retriever crossed with a poodle. Voila, labradoodle! But a vemon was a made creature, as if one took the front half of the Lab and jammed it onto the back half of thr poodle. In other words, wrong.

If a demon and a vampire mated, their offspring would be unique but in harmony, like a Labrador retriever crossed with a poodle. Voila, labradoodle! But a vemon was a made creature, as if one took the front half of the Lab and jammed it onto the back half of the poodle. In other words, wrong