“I didn’t know what to say to that. I just stared at him. He was right, of course he was right, but… “I can’t do my job like this.”
“No,” he said, “you can’t.”
Then suddenly I felt the first tear slide down my face.
“No crying,” he said.
Another tear joined the first. I fought not to wipe at them.
His hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath. “That’s not fair. Don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, but you’re right, I think. I’m pregnant, damn it, not crippled.”
“He doesn’t pretend,” the punk pixie said. He nodded toward Doyle. “Nice rings. You got anything else pierced?”
“Yes,” Doyle said.
The boy smiled, making the rings in the edge of his nose and his bottom lip curl cheerfully with it. “Me too,” he said.”
“I hoped what little dinner I'd eaten wasn't something my new baby-rich body didn't like. I didn't want to throw up all over the bad guys, or then again maybe I did. It would certainly be distracting.”
“He held Saraid the rest of the way home, and in a way she held him right back, because sometimes and especially for a man, being able to be someone’s big strong shoulder to cry on helps you not need to cry so very much yourself.”
“They had kilts on instead of pants, but you just didn’t see six feet-plus of immortal warrior panicking about anything often, but panicking in a kitchen with pots in their hands and the oven open while they peered inside in a puzzled manner was a very special and endearing type of panic.”
“True religion, indeed, is that which does not have to be avowed in order to provide the solace that at times...if only rarely...you cannot do without.”
“I’m a succubus.”
He shook his head. “No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You aren’t.”
I was a bit surprised to be having this conversation. “I am too.”
“No. Succubi are flame-eyed and bat-winged. Everyone knows that. They don’t wear jeans and sweaters.”
“Two kinds of women get under your skin. The ones who do damage, they don't feel good there but once you're fuckin' stupid enough to let them in you got no choice but to take the time it takes to work them out. Then there are the ones who don't do damage, who feel good there, feed the muscle, the bone, the soul, not rip it or break it or burn it. The ones you don't wanna work out.”
“For this was Christmas, which had always been a time of magic, to him and to all the world.”
“My mother's psychologist says I have an overactive anger switch, but people just keep pissing me off.”
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