“Love thy enemies, it says in the scriptures. My foster mother always added, "At the very least, you will be polite to them.”

“My foster mother always laughed and said it was his reputation for knowing everything that allowed for him to appear infallible: all he had to do was walk through the room and see who looked guiltiest when they saw him. Maybe she was right, but I tried looking innocent the next time, and it didn't work.”

“We brought death to our enemies, and I loved the power of it. And that final love, one I shared with my father, frightened me more than any battle ever could.”

“Mercy," said my mother thoughtfully, "you never told me your werewolf neighbor was quite that hot.”

“His voice was soft and sweet as molasses; but my mother once told me that you had to trust that the first thing out of a person's mouth was truth. After they have a chance to think about it, they'll change what they say to be more socially acceptable, something they think you'll be happier with, something that will get the results they want.”

“But you can't marry someone to fix him, even if you love them.”

“Coyote never loses. Because I change the rules of the games my enemies play. What are the rules of your game?”