“If there were such a thing as a vampire-puppy-dog, it would be Cecil. Big pleading eyes, asking for an ear-scratch and a nice warm bowl of blood.”

“I still can't understand how Cecil and my old tutor, Fitz, got along so well, when we often called Fitz 'the Genius' and avoided calling Cecil anything at all, so as not to be rude.”

“Blast Cecil!” said Eldric. “You have my permission,” I said.”

“The boy shall have a proper beating,' said Cecil.'But I beat him already,' I said, 'and don't tell me I didn't do it properly. I'm touchy about these things.”

“Poor Cecil, consumed by a grande passion, only to be told to compress his love manifesto into a haiku. “I won’t try to excuse my behavior,” he said. “It was despicable.” Or a limerick. There once was a rotter named Cecil, Whose Love Interest wished he could be still. Oh well. Unlike some, at least, I’ve never pretended to be a poet.”

“I was going to ask him, yes I was. “You remember Blackberry Night?”The torches were alive with yellow butterfly-flames. “I can’t forget it.” His eyes were whiter than white.“You remember the thing we might have done that night, but it turned out to be a thing we didn’t do?” It was late and my tongue had gone bleary. “The thing you stopped us from doing?”“I especially can’t forget that.”I was asking about lust, wasn’t I? I was fairly certain of it. But isn’t love supposed to come before lust? It does in the dictionary.”

“You don’t mind when he stares at you.” Cecil jerked his head toward Eldric. "He doesn’t stare,” I said. “He looks.”