My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me. It was a battle cry.

If one cannot learn from the mistakes of others, one might as well become a Democrat.

There can be no faith without doubt. No strength without temptation. (Rafael)

But I want to stay here. (Jeff) And people in hell want ice water and if you don’t go to the boat, you’ll probably be able to take it to them in person in about twenty minutes. (Rafael)

And you chose to fight for Artemis instead, what kind of stupid are you? (Jeff)

I would kiss you anyway, but I have a feeling that if I tried– (Rafael) I’d kick you in the nuts and tear your ear off. (Celena) That would hurt. (Rafael) That’s the idea. (Celena)

What do I do? (Jeff) Well, not to insult a man who looks like a rocket scientist in comparison to you, but…run, Forrest, run. (Rafael)

Her Squire, Celena, Ms. Blood Rite, I-kill-anything-that-breaks-formation, is on her way over here to have a word with you. Since Celena isn’t real big on conversation, I’m taking that as a euphemism for ‘kick your ass.’ (Rafael)

Why are you doing this? (Rafael) Because life’s too short to spend it fighting when you could be holding the one you love. And love’s too rare to squander it with petty concerns. I’m lucky I have Chloe and I have no intention of letting a war I didn’t start rob me of one second of my time with her. Go in peace, Dark-Hunter. (Apollite)

You’re a good man. (Rafael) I guess we’ll see in about five years, huh? If I die peacefully, then I’m good. If not, then we’ll face each other again as predators. (Apollite)

Someone stake that bastard, please, and for the sake of the gods, dust Benny off the table by the fountain. The powder’s disgusting and it’s getting into the blood. (Apollite)

Not anymore. To bring an outsider in could threaten the safety of Ephani. What if I were on a date and she needed me? (Celena) What if a meteorite fell through the house right now and flattened us both? (Rafel)

I’m here to take him into custody and deliver him to the Council. (Celena) Well, that sucks. Bank robbery, handing out the passwords for the Dark-Hunter Web site, carjacking, mugging, cats mixing with dogs, and now this…writing a short story. High crimes all. You get the rope and we’ll hang him for it. God forbid the whole twelve subscribers of that magazine should actually read a fictional story and think it real. (Rafael)

No matter how you disguise this trite bullshit, it’s my life, Jeff. Penned in an awkward manner. It’s things I didn’t want to see in black-and-white print. You’re lucky after three hundred years that I’ve mellowed. In my human days, I’d have slit your throat, pulled your tongue through the opening, and left you tied to a tree for the wolves to eat. (Rafael)

But it would be safer for you to patrol Starkville first and then head back this way. (Celena) And I was a pirate who laughed as he died and spat in the face of my killer. Safety’s not my concern. (Rafael)

The Daimons could, in theory, shoot you until you’re too weakened to fight them and then behead you. (Celena) Want to put a cone around my head like a dog to make sure they can’t decapitate me while we’re at it? (Rafael)