“The girl's face was the color of talcum. Her uncle's was a death mask, a bone structure overlaid by parchment. Shane's was granite, with a glistening line of sweat just below his hair line. He'd never forget this night, the detective knew, no matter what else happened for the rest of his life. They were all getting scars on their souls, the sort of scars people got in the Dark Ages, when they believed in devils and black magic. ("Speak To Me Of Death")”

“His skin was dark, his face tanned, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sun lines, not laugh lines, she was sure. She couldn't imagine the devil captain ever laughing at anything except, perhaps, someone else's pain.”

“It seemed such a short time ago that Erin had comerunning toward him, laughing, her black hair like silk around an elfin face. And he'd melted inside just atthe sight of her, gone breathless like a boy with his first real date. It still felt like that, despite her scars,her limp. In his heart, he carried a portrait of her that would withstand all the long, aging years, that wouldleave her young and unscarred for as long as he lived.”

“The craggy lines that made up the character in his face now seemed like scars of defeat, inflicted on him over time.”

“Her hair gives dawn it's fire, her eyes give dusk her soul"He knew how to use his voice to melt a girl's heart, to make a girl want to believe. I steeled myself against the seductive words. "Excuse me?" "It's a line of poetry describing a beautiful girl, one who doesn't seem to know it.”

“Remembered pain tightened his mouth into a grim line. The weeks he’d spent looking for her had left permanent scars on his heart.”