“Here I am with a seriously hunky guy and I'm covered in demon pee. Why does the universe hate me?”
“What did ya learn from this dumbass stunt?”
Here's where she was supposed to apologize, promise to be a good little girl and never do anything like this again.
Screw that.
Riley locked eyes with him. “I learned that the Holy Water better be fresh, that I need practice throwing the spheres, and that someone has to watch my back so asshats don't steal my demons.”
“Riley. How bad has it been?"
"Just fabulous. The demonic kitten really made my night.”
“I'll be there for ya, girl. No matter what.
Beck took a deep breath and released it slowly. He had to stay strong for her, make the tough decisions. It was best that Paul's daughter never know how he felt about her. There'd be less hurt that way, for both of them.
Just keep her safe, God. I can settle for that.”
“As Beck drove out of the garage, he gave the parking attendants a big toothy smile and a wave. “There's some snow on the fifth level. Thought ya might like to know. Y'all have a nice day, now!” he called out.
No wonder Dad liked working with you.”
“That's Denver Beck, isn't it? Paul mentioned him. What's he like?" Ori asked.
"Oh, where do I start? Beck's mouthy and he lives to tell me what to do." In short, he's so not you. "Why do you want to know?"
A glimmer appeared in Ori's dark eyes.
"Just scoping out the competition.”
“That’s when she’d learned that male egos and fruit had a lot in common: Both bruised easily.”
“Adults always acted like they could fix everything. But they can't. And they know it.”
“The demon stopped its frantic attempts to escape. It stared at the glitter and began to pant, fingers twitching in anticipation. More twitching. Faster than she'd expected, it zoomed up to the sparkles, despite the danger. She snagged the fiend right before it picked up the last one, and dropped the Magpie into the cup. Instead of a flood of swear words or the offer of a favor, she heard a long, tortured sigh. Then it sat, sorting the glitter into piles by color.
Now she'd seen everything.”
“Thanks. For everything. I mean it.’
A slow grin edged onto his face. ‘You’re worth it…Princess.’
Her tennis show hit the door a second after it closed.”
“The witch reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a light brown chamois bag about the size of a playing card. “Maybe this will help you. It’ll boost your self-esteem.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. Riley took the bag and opened it. She looked to the bottom to find … nothing.
“Ah, it’s empty.”
“Of course,” Ayden replied. “It’s up to you to fill it. Find things that mean something to you, that represent times where you’ve overcome an obstacle, learned something important. Put those items in the bag and they’ll help you find your strength.”
“Ya hafta be there for Beck. He only has you."
Riley sighed. "I'll get the car.”
“Ya lied to me and put yerself in danger. If the Three hadn’t ripped you apart, those two bastards would have. Ya gotta listen to me girl. I’ve been down this road myself.’
Riley Smirked. ‘Those guys wanted to party with you too?”
“'The demon cried, waving its furry arms above his head like a demented orangutan.”
“Ozymandias controls not only the dead, but the living. He works the dark magics, and it is said he knows the paths between the worlds and walks them without fear. He wields the-"
"Stop! In English, okay?""
"In English?" she asked, throwing the empty wineglass into the picnic basket. Riley nodded.
"You're in serious shit.”
“Kiss my ass, demon!’ Beck whooped, and shot a first in the air.”
“Accepting favors from fiends was so against the rules. Like potato chips, you couldn't stop at just one, then you'd find yourself at Hell's front door trying to explain why your soul had a big brand on it that said “Property of Lucifer.”
“Libraries and demons," she muttered. "What is the attraction?”
“Everyone has a breaking point, Riley. He hit his long time ago.
But you didn't.
He smiled and sqeezed her hand.'Because of you.'
Weaving his arm around her waist, they walked up the stairs in tandem.
- Riley Blackthorne and Paul Blackthorne”
“The guy behind the counter had been seriously adorable. Model-level cute. She had mentioned that, and Allan, her then boyfriend, hadn't taken it well.
That's when she'd learned that male egos and fruit had a lot in common: Both bruised easily.”
“It’s up to you to fill it. Find things that mean something to you, that represent times where you’ve overcome an obstacle, learned something important. Put those items in the bag and they’ll help you find your strength.’
‘I’m not sure if that’s going to help much.’ Unless I put a brick in it and nail Brandy between the eyes.”
“Riley Blackthorne - kicking hell's ass one demon at a time.”
“When an idea occurs to you and you feel eagerness about it, that means that your Inner Being is a vibrational match to the idea, and your positive emotion is an indication that the vibration of your thought in this moment matches that of your Inner Being. That is, in fact, what inspiration is: You are, in the moment, a perfect vibrational match to the broader perspective of your Inner Being, and because of that alignment, you are now receiving clear communication, or Guidance, from your Inner Being.”
“Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.”
“And truly he did well to trust in God, for though the felons mocked him when he said he had loved loyally, yet I call you to witness, my lords who read this, and who know of the philtre drunk upon the high seas, and who, understand whether his love were disloyalty indeed. For men see this and that outward thing, but God alone the heart, and in the heart alone is crime and the sole final judge is God.”
“ОДУШЕВЕНО
Една шапка – мека, кафява, филцова, с провиснала периферия и плетен ширит около бомбето – се мъдреше сред другите, като подскачаше поради неравностите на пътя, преодолявани от колелата на моторното средство, което япревозваше – нея, самата шапка. На всяка спирка, когато пътниците се качваха и слизаха, я отместваха странично, а понякога прекалено, което в края на краищата много я ядоса – нея, самата шапка. Шапката изрази гнева си с човешки глас, изтръгнал се от една снабдена с множество отверстия валчеста и плътна маса с костна структура, която се намираше под нея – под самата шапка. После тя изведнъж се устреми напред, защото се оказа, че има свободно място за нея – за самата шапка.
Час-два по-късно видях как тя – самата шапка, – се носи на метър и шейсет и шест от земята и снове пред гара Сен Лазар. Един приятел я съветваше да прибави копче на палтото си – нея, самата шапка… Допълнително копче… На нейното палто… Да ѝ каже това… На нея… На самата шапка.”
“Wally was worse than any fairy-tale witch, and his trailer wasn't made of candy.”
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