Emilio is in hiding,” Astrid snapped. “Emilio has to worry about being kicked out of the country. Our Emilio.”“He’s got a volunteer lawyer—” But Astrid wasn’t done. “They should be putting up statues to Emilio. They should be naming schools after that boy—no, no, I’m not going to call him a boy. If he’s not a man, then I’ll never meet one.” Lana nodded approvingly, obviously enjoying and sharing in Astrid’s outrage.

— Michael Grant

Emilio lay on the steps of town hall feeling as weak as a kitten. He had barely heard Caine’s big speech. He couldn’t have cared less. There was nothing he could do, not with delirium spinning his head. He coughed hard, too hard. It wracked his body each time he did it so that he dreaded the next cough. His stomach was clenched in knots. Every muscle in his body ached. He was vaguely aware that he was saying something in between c

— Michael Grant

Endgame,” Sam muttered, not really expecting Caine to hear.“Yep,” Caine said. “That’s right. Endgame. The FAY barrier is coming down; at least that’s my bet. But there’s also a ninety percent chance you and me both end up dead. Ten percent chance we both actually get out of here alive. In which case we end up sharing a cell somewhere.” He laughed.“Kind of unfair, really, what with me being evil and all, and you just so darned virtuous and heroic.

— Michael Grant

Fear was about possibilities. Not things that happened. Things that might.

— Michael Grant

Female say Pack Leader stop,” Pack Leader said angrily.“What?” Caine could make no sense of it till he saw Diana striding up, dark hair flying, eyes furious.“I told this filthy beast to stop,” Diana said, barely controlled.”Stop what?” Caine demanded.“They’re still attacking the kids,” Diana said. “We’ve won. Sam is dead. Call them off, Caine.” Caine turned his attention back to the battle between Drake and the monster. “They’re coyotes,” Caine said coldly. Diana flew at him. “You’ve lost your mind, Caine. This has to stop. You’ve won. This has to stop.”“Or what, Diana? Or what?” Caine demanded. “Go get Lana. I’m hurt. Pack Leader, do what you want.”“Maybe this is why your mother abandoned you,” Diana said savagely. “Maybe she could see that you weren’t just bad, you were twisted and sick and evil.

— Michael Grant

Find Sam Temple. Tell him you escaped.” Jack gulped and bobbed his head.“Better yet, find that girl, Astrid.” Diana recovered some of her mocking attitude. “Astrid the Genius. She’ll be desperate to save Sam.”“Okay. Okay.” He steeled himself. “I better go.” Diana touched his arm. “Tell them about Andrew.” Jack froze with his hand on the key. “That’s what you want me to do?”“Jack, if Sam blinks out, Drake will turn on me, and Caine won’t be able to stop him. Drake is stronger than before. I need Sam alive. I need someone for Drake to hate. Furthermore, I need balance. Tell Sam about the temptation. Warn him that he’ll be tempted to surrender to the big jump, but maybe, maybe, if he says no…” She sighed. It was not a hopeful sound. “Now: go.

— Michael Grant

First off,” he said, “I want to say I’m sorry about E.Z. He was a good kid. He didn’t deserve…” For a moment he almost lost it as a surge of emotion welled up from nowhere. “I’m sorry he died.” Someone sobbed loudly.“Look, I’m going to get right to it: we have three hundred and thirty-two… I’m sorry, three hundred and thirty-one mouths to feed,” Sam said. He placed his hands on his hips and planted his feet wide apart. “We were already pretty bad off for food supplies. But after the attack by the Coates kids…well, it’s not pretty bad off, anymore, it’s desperate.” He let that sink in. But how much were six-and eight-year-olds really grasping? Even the older kids looked more glazed than alarmed.“Three hundred and thirty-one kids,” Sam reiterated, “And food for maybe a week. That’s not a long time. It’s not a lot of food. And as you all know, the food we have is awful.” That got a response from the audience. The younger kids produced a chorus of gagging and retching sounds.“All right,” Sam snapped. “Knock it off. The point is, things are really desperate.

— Michael Grant

Go, Breeze,” someone yelled. But another voice yelled, “Quit showing off, stupid mutant.” Brianna stopped dead. Her dress settled back into place. “Who said that?” Zil. The same jerk who had picked on Jack over the phones.“Me,” ZIL said, stepping forward. “And don’t bother trying to look tough. I’m not scared of you, freak.”“You should be,” Brianna hissed. Suddenly there was Deck, up off her chair, hand extended between Brianna and ZIL. “No,” she said in her deep voice. “None of that.” Quinn joined her. “Deck’s right, we can’t be having fights and stuff here. Sam will shut this place down.”“Maybe we should have two different clubs,” a seventh grader named Antoine said. “You know, one for freaks and one for normal.”“Man, what is the matter with you?” Quinn demanded.“I don’t like her acting like she’s so cool, is all,” ZIL said, stepping beside Antoine.”You should be on our side, Quinn. Everyone knows you’re a normal,” another kid, Lance, said. “Well…kind of normal. You’re still Quinn.

— Michael Grant

God knew our lives would be terrible sometimes. Like maybe, we'd be turned into a monster and then our best friend would get killed. So he made up this story about hell, so we could always say, 'Well it could be worse. It could be hell.' And then we'd keep going.

— Michael Grant

Guilt was a fascinating thing: it seemed not to weaken over time. If anything it grew stronger as the circumstances faded from memory, as the fear and the necessity became abstract. And only her own actions stood out with crystal clarity.

— Michael Grant