“I hated the idea of such a glorious creature beating itself to death in pursuit of something it could never have. It was, after all, just a light. The moth had no idea why it wanted it, only that it did.I paused at the window. “You’re just like them you know. You want the light so bad because you think it’s wonderful, and power-ful, and the answer to all of your little moth dreams, but in reality it is just a deadly desire. No matter what you do, no matter how bad you want it, you can never have it. Don’t you see? The light will bring you nothing but death.”Slowly, I opened my hand again. “Now, go, live your life. Find another moth and make little moth babies, and stop chasing light fixtures,” I instructed, raising my hand toward the stars. Once again, the moth watched me, then fluttered its wings and took off. This time, it flew away, disappearing into the dark. I leaned my head against the window frame, watching, think-ing, wondering if the little critter would ever find happiness. It didn’t take long to get an answer. There, on the other side of the parking lot, was the moth, buzzing wildly against a street light. I began to cry. “I know how you feel, little one,” I sobbed. “No matter what happens, no matter how wrong it is, my heart wants what it wants. I’m just like you, and they are my light.”

“I need you like - like light. You're light, all right - like a flame to a moth. I told you once that you shouldn't mess with forbidden things - I should have taken my own advice.”

“Then your fingers moved down to my chin. You pushed it up with your thumb to look at me, almost like you were studying me in the artificial lights above my head. And, I mean, you really looked at me … with eyes like two stars. [...] And I had wings fluttering away inside me all right. Big fat moth wings. You trapped me easily, drew me toward you like I was already in the net.”

“Question," says Christina, leaning forward. "The leaders who were watching your fear landscape...they were laughing at something.""Oh?" I bite my lip hard. "I'm glad my terror amuses them.""Any idea which obstacle it was?" she asks."No.""You're lying," she says. "You always bite the inside of your cheek when you lie. It's your tell."I stop biting the inside of my cheek."Will's is pinching his lips together, if it makes you feel better," she adds.Will covers his mouth immediately."Okay,fine.I was afraid of...intimacy," I say."Intimacy," repeats Chrstina. "Like...sex?"I tense up.And force myself to nod.Even if it was just Christina, and no one else was around,I would still want to strangle her right now. I go over a few ways to inflict maximum injury with minimum force in my head. I try to throw flames from my eyes.Will laughs."What was that like?" she says. "I mean,did someone just...try to do it with you? Who was it?""Oh,you know. Faceless...unidentifiable male," I say. "How were your moths?""You promised you would never tell!" cries Christina,smacking my arm."Moths," repeats Will. "You're afraid of moths?""Not just a cloud of moths," she says, "like...a swarm of them. Everywhere. All those wings and legs and..." She shudders and shakes her head."Terrifying," Will says with mock seriousness. "That's my girl. Tough as cotton balls.""Oh,shut up.”

“God damn it, don’t you do this. You have no idea how badly I want you right now. I’d love nothing more than to bury myself inside you, and feel you lose yourself around me as you scream my name; the very idea of fucking the woman I love, finally, after ten thousand years – of having you feel just what it is you mean to me – is so hard to bear I’m all but fallen at your feet. But I’ll be damned if it happens here of all places. I’m not going to screw you in Hell, Mary. I gave in and took your blood, and God knows you have the power to bring me to my knees, but when I love-fuck you, I want to do it in my home. So do you think you could humour me just a little longer?”She gaped at him. “Did you just say, ‘love-fuck’?”

“A moth is such a simple machine in the animal world - the go-kart to the modern car - and it takes a lot of glitches to prevent it going. It's this intriguing simplicity, the idea that you could pull it into its constituent parts and put it back together in the same rainy day, that if you pulled back the skin, you could watch the inner workings, that makes a moth such an absorbing creature to study. Moths have a universal character: there are no individuals. Each reacts to a precise condition or stimulus in a predictable and replicable way. They are pre-programmed robots, unable to learn from experience. For instance, we know they will allways react to a smell, a pheromone or a particular spectrum of light in the same way. I can mimic the scent of a flower so that a moth will direct itself towards that scent ...”