“How can she create with all your negative energy?""Yeah, man. You're bringing us down.""This is about as low as it gets," Ariel said. "Where did you get those ridiculous black berets?"Moth adjusted his recently donned beatnik attire. "This is what the hip cats wear , daddy-o.""Can you dig it?" Cobweb stroked a few wisps of fake chin hair, while the others nodded and snapped their fingers.”

“You're a little tall to play Ariel." said Moth."And you have way too many muscles," said Mustardseed."But you might be able to pull it off," Cobweb said, "if you can look really constipated.”

“Your luck is about to change, Abby.' His voice was low and velvety. 'I know a lot about you. I know how to get into your apartment. How to turn your cat into a noodle. The magnets on your fridge, the view from your window. Your perfume. I could find you blindfolded in a room full of strangers.' His fingers penetrated the veil of her hair, his forefinger stroking the back of her neck with controlled gentleness. 'And I learn fast. Give me ten minutes, and I'd know lots more.”

“She had time to make room for him in her closet. The cat had time to get used to him. They had all the time they needed, because he'd told her he was hers, and he was a man of his word. "I've got all I need," she told him.He leaned down and kissed her again, then stroked a finger over her temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I want you to know," he said. "That you're the best choice I ever made.""No regrets?""No regrets.”

“After a while Mary said, “Zsadist?”“Yeah?”“What are those markings?”His frowned and flicked his eyes over to her, thinking, as if she didn’t know? But then . . . well, she had been a human. Maybe she didn’t. “They’re slave bands. I was . . . a slave.”“Did it hurt when they were put on you?”“Yes.”“Did the same person who cut your face give them to you?”“No, my owner’s hellren did that. My owner . . . she put the bands on me. He was the one who cut my face.”“How long were you a slave?”“A hundred years.”“How did you get free?”“Phury. Phury got me out. That’s how he lost his leg.”“Were you hurt while you were a slave?”Z swallowed hard. “Yes.”“Do you still think about it?”“Yes.” He looked down at his hands, which suddenly were in pain for some reason. Oh, right. He’d made twofists and was squeezing them so tightly his fingers were about to snap off at the knuckles.“Does slavery still happen?”“No. Wrath outlawed it. As a mating gift to me and Bella.”“What kind of slave were you?”Zsadist shut his eyes. Ah, yes, the question he didn’t want to answer. For a while it was all he could do to force himself to stay in the chair. But then, in a falsely level voice, he said,“I was a blood slave. I was used by a female for blood.”The quiet after he spoke bore down on him, a tangible weight.“Zsadist? Can I put my hand on your back?”His head did something that was evidently a nod, because Mary’s gentle palm came down lightly on hisshoulder blade. She moved it in a slow, easy circle.“Those are the right answers,” she said. “All of them.”He had to blink fast as the fire in the furnace’s window became blurry. “You think?” he said hoarsely.“No. I know.”

“You were created out of love and good.""There is not good in her," he said sharply, lowering his chin, while twisting the steam between his fingers."There has to be somewhere, as there still is in you. I can sense it. You've just buried it.”