As far as I can tell, it doesn't make any difference to adults how clever children are. They always stick together. Unless you are sick or dying or mortally wounded, they will always side with the other adult.

— R.L. LaFevers

I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?

— R.L. LaFevers

I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.

— R.L. LaFevers

It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.

— R.L. LaFevers

Jewels can be replaced, cousin. Independence, once lost, cannot.

— R.L. LaFevers

One fine moonlit night, Mort ain and his Wild Hunt were riding through the countryside when they spied two maids more beautiful than any they had ever seen before. They were picking evening primrose, which only blooms in the moonlight.“The two maids turned out to be Amount and Arduino, twin daughters of DEA Matron. When Mort ain saw the fair Amount, he fell instantly in love, for she was not only beautiful but light of heart as well, and surely the god of death needs lightness in his world.“But the two sisters could not be more different. Amount was happy and giving, but her sister, Arduino, was fierce, jealous, and suspicious, for such is the dual nature of love. Arduino had a ferocious and protective nature and did not care for the way Mort ain was looking at her beloved sister. To warn him, she drew her bow and let fly with one of her silver arrows. She never misses, and she didn’t miss then. The arrow pierced Mort ain’s heart, but no one, not even a goddess, can kill the god of death.“Mort ain plucked the arrow from his chest and bowed to Arduino. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘For reminding me that love never comes without cost

— R.L. LaFevers

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.

— R.L. LaFevers