“I was alive, they were not. Go Me. (Touch the Dark)”

“I have to fix this,” I told him, as clearly and calmly as I could. “If you want to help me, then help me. Don’t shield me, don’t protect me, don’t bury me alive. Help me .”

“I started to get up, but that hand tightened on my foot. I wanted to pace, needed to let off some of the nervous energy that kept me from eating half the time, kept me from sleeping. And just when I told myself I was being paranoid and everything would be fine, something tried to drown me in the goddamned bathtub.But I didn't get up. Because then I'd lose that bried, human connection. A connection that shouldn;t have been there, because Priktin wasn't the touchy-feely type. He touched me in training, when he had to, and grabbed me in the middle of crises. But I actually couldn't recall him ever touching me just ... because.”

“Damn it, the man needed a keeper. Yeah, sure he did. A dark-haired, dimpled, dhampir keeper, which wasn’t going to happen, so just shut up. Sometimes I didn’t think it mattered what Mircea did in my head, because I was already crazy anyway. “It’s like someone invented you just to mess with me,” I said resentfully. “Quoi?” I sighed.”

“There was some sort of commotion going on outside, and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the door and stuck my head out. Marco was gasping for breath on the sofa, and two of the guards were bent over a cell phone.“What are you doing?” I demanded.“Trying to record this,” the smart-ass from the shopping trip told me. “Nobody is going to believe us otherwise.”“Well, cut it out. It isn’t funny!”“On what planet?”I glared at him, which did no good,because he simply went back to to tinkering with the phone. So I looked at Marco. “Can’t you do anything with them?”Marco flopped a hand at me, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, and tried to say something. But all that came out for several moments were asthmatic wheezes. I bent over his prone form, starting to worry about him, and he put a hand on my neck and pulled me down.” It…is…funny,” he gasped.”

“We’re going jogging.”“I don’t run for recreation. I run when someone’s after me with a weapon.”“That can be arranged,”

“Louis-Cesare and Ray were in trouble.I could tell because I could see them, not clearly, but in fits and starts, little glimmers like a couple of ghosts, if ghosts made "oh shit" faces on the one hand agitated French gestures on the other. And that sort of shit wasn't going to go unnoticed for long.Aaaaand it didn't.”