“Art should look like art, trees and flowers and people, not weird shapes and splotches of color all smeared together.”

“Still, I'd do anything for him. Even smear his clotting blood inside the vehicle of his choosing.”

“That's why you look so tired, isn't it?" I murmured. "You used up all your magic to find me last night."Owen shrugged as though it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing to me. Besides Finn and the Deveraux sisters, I couldn't even remember the last time someone had cared enough to come looking for me when I was in trouble. I was so used to being on my own for so long, always being the tough, strong, capable one, that I'd forgotten how nice it felt to have someone else look out for me.To have someone else care about me.And just like that, the fragile strings of my feelings for Owen joined together, all the tangled threads wrapping around and weaving their way through my heart. Scary and painful in some ways, but necessary in others too.”

“What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.”

“Uh, what are you doing?”“Nothing much. Just erasing all of Calinda’s good grades and replacing them with incompletes. Eventually, the administrators will figure out what happened, but I’m making it look like a computer error. Still, I imagine she’ll get some nasty lectures from her profs and parents in the meantime.”

“All black, of course. Just like his rotting soul.”

“I wouldn't say hate, exactly. You're kind of like fungus, Gwen. After a while, you just start growing on people.”