Ann Aguirre

“I always have someplace else I’d rather be, even if I don’t know where that is, yet.”

“You’re clumsy. But it can’t be helped. You are who you are.It feels like the answer to a question I feared asking, like I’ve been searching every galaxy for this message. You are who you are.”

“But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.”

“Each love is unique. Special. Giving to one never takes away from another.”

“That she could smile while I hurt in ways I could not understand—it broke something in me. I did not understand the heart of her, then. She is made of brightness, too much for sorrow. Such a glad spirit—I am humbled now that she shared it with me.”

“Right now, I wish I’d stayed because I want you at my side. That sounds pretty selfish, but I don’t mean it that way. You just never needed me that way; I said it to you once as I was leaving—that you love me, but you don’t need me. You don’t lean. But I admire that about you, and I could use some of your strength right now.”

“For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.”

“What you said about the sweetest pain? That fits us.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your handwriting before. It’s an oddly personal thing, isn’t it?”

“What they don’t know is, no matter how they decide, they can’t penalize me more than I’m already punishing myself.”

“So I make no effort to hide my pain. I don’t ever put it all on display like this—but for today and all the rest of the days of the trial, I must. My every flinch, every flicker of pain, will bemagnified a hundred times over, then dissected by the pundits and talking heads. But I’m told it’s necessary; the world needs to see me vulnerable and wounded. I cannot appear not to care or to lack remorse, but that removes a crucial component of my self- defense mechanism and leaves me bleeding for all the world to see. I suppose that’s rather the point.”

“. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.”

“There’s nothing he can do here for me, but I hate that he left.”

“We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his; they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.”

“For love to flourish there has to be trust. Promises don’t matter as much aspersonal choice.”

“Sometimes I miss the old me.”

“They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don’t deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true; we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it’s not the same as a proper good-bye.”

“I know you have bad news,” I say softly. “I’m ready for it.”But that’s not true. One is never ready. You just lie and say you are and hope you can take the hit on the chin without going down.”

“He is not the same person as when wemet, but . . . neither am I. Time has refined us, but instead of pushing us apart, we’re closer than ever.”

“This guilt is a joke, and it’s exhausting to watch you martyr yourself.”

“I shake my head, but I can’t change this. I can only bear the scars, as I have always done, as I ever do.”

“I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.”

“More than most, I know the pain of surviving.”

“Survival feels like cowardice.”

“Dying isn’t like living; it requires no effort at all.”

“I think my head's a minefield strewn with triggers, and maybe if I survive each explosion, what emerges from the wreckage will be me, really, truly me.”

“Are you mine?" I asked, low knowing the answer already."Completely." His voice thrummed with conviction.And oh, I liked it."So I may do anything I wish with you?""Anything."I didn't need his invitation, of course. He belonged to me, like everything in Sheol, but there was more pleasure in a willing slave. I drew my athame and took his hand. He shuddered at my touch because I put a thread of power in it, pulled it through him in a flicker of the darkest pleasure. Soon enough he'd beg for this, unable to perform with anyone else. I knew how to enthrall my lovers. With a faint smile, I pricked the tip of his finger. Not as much pain as he expected, I think, but I drew blood. His gasp aroused me. His blood welled like a crimson jewel and I took his fingertip between my lips, tasting him. Learning his secrets.”

“She reaches for me then, angry in her tenderness as only Dina can be. "Not as a navigator, you dumb bitch.”

“His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.”

“There are shades of warmth from the sweet ember of possibility to the roaring fire that fills your soul.”

“Grimspace is a bitch mistress who carries unearthly delight in one hand and a crop in the other.”

“Don't worry he tells me tenderly. It doesn't matter who you've been, who you are, or who you become. I'm with you every step of the way.”

“Brown bird welcomes white wave. Wander no more, dear traveler.”

“It’s what you do that counts, not what you consider doing.”

“I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn’t die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.”

“I'm Sirantha Jax, and I have had enough.”

“I don't believe in love at all," he returns, equally quiet. "It's just a name people give the endorphins that spring up after some really hot fucking, and the justification they use to manipulate the shit out of each other afterward.”

“... Where did you go?”“Down below.”“Ugh,” she said. “I’ve heard they’re little better than animals.”Funny. I thought the same thing about most Topsiders I encountered. Tegan touched my hand in silent sympathy, and I set my jaw. ... I stepped forward and pasted on a false smile. We were in her home, after all. The least I could do was be polite. “I’m Deuce, animal from the underground.”

“My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.”

“A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks; it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.”

“A good huntress respected her partners instincts, even if he was socially ignorant.”

“He went in, lean and deadly, and ended the creature with a lightning-fast spike of his blade. It shrieked, likely altering the rest. The death call carried like a mournful song.”

“A huntress never stabbed anything she didn't want to.”

“Here in the enclave, one didn't prosper by demonstrating too much independent thought.”

“He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.”

“I have your back. I didn't mean only when it's easy. All the time.”

“Before he bent his head, I knew what he was going to do. Touch his lips to mine. Oh, and I wanted him to... I stilled, hardly daring to breathe. The old refrain of cant and shouldn't sank beneath the weight of new worlds like please and yes.”

“Go to hell, March." But I'm still smiling while I say it. As I doze off again, I'm pretty sure he says, "Been there, done that, and I'm keeping a spot warm for you, babe.”

“I never felt beautiful unless I was fighting.”

“We stood back-to-back, blocking and striking in harmony; sometimes it felt like his arms and legs were an extension of me. I could count on him to keep them off me from behind.”