“Nothing natural could cause this kind of fear. It goes beyond a fear of physical harm and into the realm of mental and spiritual. Like the fear of losing your sanity, of losing your soul.”

“I am not afraid of you, your kind, or your god.”

“I don’t know which is worse—that Raffe didn’t jump in to defend me, or that he bet that I would lose.”

“I hate it when she does that. There’s nothing more humiliating than being smacked by your crazy mother in front of your friends.”

“Your sense of judgement could use a dash of common sense.”

“You," he says, with a dirty look, “don’t deserve salvation.”"As if you could give it to me,” I croak. “Why would I want to go to Heaven anyway when it’s crammed full of murderers and kidnappers like you and your buddies?” “Who says I belong in Heaven?”

“You should know,” he says. His whisper is low enough that even angels probably couldn’t hear it beyond the background noise of conversations in the corridor. “I don’t even like you.”