“You can have a normal life. It's not too late for you."I nearly laughed. "You've clearly never met my parents. Normal was never an option.”

“I would never believe that I was better off without the Drakes and they without me. Growing up, I’d seen them more often than my own grandparents. They were part of my landscape. And if that particular landscape suddenly included earthquakes and volcanoes and mudslides, then too bad; I already built a house there and dug the well and planted crops. It was an analogy my parents had to understand. They were homesteaders; they knew that once you found your home, you dug your roots. Period.”

“...and Lucy." She looked like she might cry.'What about her?'"Lucy smells like food." She nearly gagged saying it.'Sol, all that's normal. Lucy smelled good before I turned, and now she smells even better. But I haven't tried to eat her face and neither will you.'"She's not safe in this house."'Safer than out there,' I argued, even though I agreed with her. 'Look, you used to eat hamburgers.'She blinked, confused. "So?"'So, did you ever walk through one of the farms at a field party and suddenly try to eat a cow?'"Um, no." Her chuckle was watery but it was better than nothing. "And, ew."'Exactly. You can crave blood and not eat your best friend.”

“Can I give you a word of advice?" Lucy asked."I suppose so.""You have a great French accent. If a guy asks you to wear a French maid's costume, kick him in the shin.""Especially if it's one of my brothers" Solange agreed.”

“I can do this, Logan," she said confidently. "Kala trained me for this.""What if something goes wrong? I can't exactly wave a magic wand over you. I'm not Harry Potter.""Who?""Never mind.”

“Come to rob my sister then,have you?""Certainly not," Mother replied, her smile brittle."This fashion for talking to the dead is pure poppycock,if you ask me.Dead is dead.""Agatha,that's rude even for you," Mrs. Gordon said."Shall we begin,Mrs. Willoughby, before my sister's abominable manners drive you clear away?”

“It seems only fair," Matthew continued. "A bit of karma, if you will." He twirled the stake again. "Shall we see how long you scream?""Are you ever going to shut up?" I snapped, fear and irritation filling me in equal measures. "This isn't your monologue, Hamlet. It's the battle scene, in case you've forgotten."His eyes narrowed so fast they nearly sparked. They were the color of honey on fire. One of the others growled like an animal, low in his throat. It made all the hairs on my arms stand straight up.I was going to die for making fun of Shakespeare.My English Lit professor would be so proud.”