Keshe Chow > Quotes

“Your excuse of needing to use the loo? It’s particularly piss-poor.” He stares up at me, open-mouthed, while I continue. “Perhaps, if you ate some actual food, you’d find it easier to control your bowels.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“I'll do anything you want as long as... As long as you don't tell."
Anything I want? She doesn't know what a dangerous proposition that is for a man like me. Again, I conceal my derision. She is so tragically naive.
Good god, I hate her. I've always hated her beating me in class and being so difficult to read and acting so uppity even though she's laughably poor and her family comes from nothing.
And I really fucking hate her now.
I hate the way she's affecting me. How rattled I feel that I found her here, on hands and knees, in my walk-in wardrobe. The way I seem unable to stop noticing how her face flushes when she's angry, or how full her lips look at close proximity.
Her heat. Her smell. The way her shoulder felt beneath my touch.
And I suddenly feel the insatiable need to make her suffer, as I've suffered.
So I turn on the full force of my charm. Reaching out, I finger a loose strand of her hair, listening to how her breath hitches. Then, so slowly, so deliberately, I tuck it behind her ear.
"All right, Chan." I smirk, allowing my fingers to linger at the soft skin of her neck. Her breaths are coming ragged, uneven. "As a matter of fact, there is something that I need from you.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“I've recklessly allowed my Harrisford-related fantasies to run rampant. On more than one occasion I've fallen asleep, still shuddering from my self-induced orgasms, with images of Harrisford's perfectly proportioned face crowding my muddled mind.
It feels okay to be imagining him, since I'll probably never see him again. We'll be enemies forever, after he betrayed me so badly, but soon enough the memories of him will fade to pale and shadowy echoes. And, surely, my hatred will eventually simmer down to a brooding sort of contempt.
In fact, I don't have to feel at all guilty about objectifying him, because he means nothing to me. Nothing. He's ceased to be an actual person. He's just a face, a body, a collection of physical attributes that trigger a purely physiological reaction. Dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin: chemicals that activate the pleasure centers in my brain.
Or perhaps I'm self-sabotaging, fancying the one person who I hate the most, the one individual who has so thoroughly ruined me. Like a stress fracture that won't heal because I stubbornly continue to run on it.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Percy starts purring, the vibrations reverberating through my body. "Thanks, Percy," I whisper, and scratch him under the chin. There's an unsubstantiated theory that cats purr to heal their bodies from within, and I wonder if by sitting on my chest he's trying to help me heal, too. Either way, having his warm fluffiness on top of me is making me feel better— even if it's purely psychosomatic.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Don’t hold your breath, Pudding.”
A laugh escapes my lips, involuntarily, and Harrisford scowls at me, his expression dark. “What’s so funny?”
I’m still trying to stifle my giggles, but I manage to choke a response out. “Your familiar’s name is Pudding? You— Harrisford Briggs, the most intimidating final-year at Seamere— named your lizard Pudding?”
"My dragon, Chan,” he snaps, his cheeks going pink. “And I was just a kid when I got her. I was four years old, and friendless, and I really liked pudding, okay? So I named her after what I liked best.”
Immediately, I stop snickering, pondering Harrisford’s words. Imagining him as a small, lonesome child is oddly unsettling. Like peeking behind the curtain of a fancy house and finding that it’s dilapidated, dirty, and deserted. Our gazes meet— his steely, mine flustered— and I quickly look away.
“I get it,” I mumble awkwardly. “I mean, I like pudding too.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Finally, she raises her head, her brown eyes meeting mine. In the moonlight, they look almost black. But not the black of shadows, or funerals, or even the absence of light. They’re dark like the star-spangled arch of a cloudless sky, or the soft space beneath your bedsheets when you burrow beneath them at night. They’re a warm sort of dark, a color that evokes pleasure, not something that causes pain.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“We really can't agree on anything, can we?"
He had seemed lost in thought, but my question jerks him out of his reverie. "Whatever do you mean, Chan?"
I take a sip of wine. "Red or white. Mag.fam, myth.creat. Curry or vinegar. BBC or the 2005 version—"
He scoffs, cutting me off. "I'm sure we can find something we agree on."
"Oh, yeah?" I say, challenging. "Let's try, then. Dark chocolate."
He shoots me a scandalized look. "White. It's so much sweeter."
"Coffee or tea?"
"Coffee," he says, then flushes. "I know that you prefer tea."
"Beach or snow?" I say, and at precisely the same time I say "beach," he says "snow." Of course he'd like snow, since he's posh, snobby, and stupidly rich.
I cross my arms and lean back in my chair. "All right then, here's the big one: Team Edward or Team Jacob?"
He takes a sip of his own wine, then purses his lips. "Neither," he says, after a beat. "Team Jessica."
My mouth drops open in an expression of mock outrage. "You animal! She's meant to be the bitchy one!"
He shrugs. "The actress who played her was hot."
I shake my head in dismay. "That's it. I think we'll have to stay enemies forever."
His eyes gleam with something like amusement. "Right, enemies. Of course.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Expensive shoes, expensive shirts, expensive trousers that are tight enough to hug his perfect…
Stop it, Gwen. My face is burning. Stop thinking about his fucking trousers.
I sigh. It’s sickening and irrational, but it would be a lie to deny that I find Harrisford Briggs good-looking— even if he is a total wanker. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He already won the looks, wealth, and ketones-smelling lotteries; it would be too much for him to also have a half-decent personality.
Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I’m a full-grown, mature adult, and I can definitely appreciate a man’s beauty while staunchly hating everything else about him.
I lie awake for almost an hour, stewing over my memories of Harrisford. Eventually, the last of my resolve crumbles, and I allow my fingers to sneak beneath my waistband. And soon enough I fall asleep, the liquid warmth of pleasure settled deep within my belly, the echo of Harrisford’s name still lingering on my lips.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“He’s all carved muscle, thick biceps, and broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, and his unnecessarily tight trousers display the thickness of his legs. There are old, healed scars— probably from his time working with mythical beasts— covering his back and neck.
I swallow, my mouth dry.
Harrisford looks up suddenly, over his shoulder, and grins. “Like what you see, Chan?”
Heat floods my face and neck, and I grab a book off his desk, flipping it open and burying my nose in it to hide the redness of my face. “No.” I stare hard at the words on the pages, but they don’t seem to make any sense. They’re bleeding and blurring together, and my ears are roaring, and it kind of feels like I’m drowning, being pulled underneath the water.
In my peripheral vision, I see Harrisford putting the new shirt on. He buttons it, leaving the top three open as usual, and saunters over. I stare even harder at my book.
Harrisford tips the book toward me so that he can read the cover. His smile widens, becoming almost exultant. His murmur is sultry and velvet soft. “Reproductive Biology of Monstrous Creatures,” he reads out. “Really, Chan?”
Ugh. Of all the books I could have grabbed off his desk, I had to grab this?
My cheeks are burning, but I refuse to be cowed by him. “Yes. It’s a bit of an interest of mine.”
His eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “What a coincidence. It’s one of mine, too.” He grins. “Perhaps we should study… together.” He’s entirely too close. Uncomfortably close.
“Sure,” I say, and shut the book with a snap. “How about we start with all the different methods of castrating a male?”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“I’ll have you know, we kind of… already did…” I taper off in embarrassment.
Her mouth falls open, and she gives off a shocked sort of laugh. “You didn’t.”
“We did.” It’s my turn to look a little smug now. “Where do you think I was, the night of the end-of-exams party?”
She tips her head to one side, scrutinizing me through narrowed eyes. “Being grumpy and antisocial in your room? Like usual?”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“That's it. My cover is blown. My pulse is racing, and my mouth has run dry. But a reckless sort of abandon is tearing through my body. The adrenaline, probably— my sympathetic nervous system has kicked into overdrive.
I know the signs: the effects of adrenergic receptor activation. My pupils are dilating, my heart rate is increasing, my lungs are expanding to full capacity. Blood is being diverted from my extremities and pooling at my core.
I know the adrenaline is clouding my mind and my judgment and giving me courage— that my bravery is artificial... But honestly, in this moment, I don't even care.
Physiology fucking rules.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Pen’s dorm is absolutely crammed full of electronic equipment. Given their retro style of dress and their romance book obsession (I’m pretty sure they’re a book influencer in their spare time), I hadn’t expected anything so… tech heavy.
But in complete contrast to the electronics, their decor is all vintage. Fussy, even. Large-print floral curtains, crocheted rugs, and lace doilies, all in tones of pink and green. Books cover every surface. In the center is the pièce de résistance: a shiny, chrome-legged-1950s-style laminate table with four matching hot pink chairs.
It’s incredible, because two weeks ago I’d never ventured into anyone’s room at Seamere except for mine and Heloise’s. Since then, I’ve been inside Harrisford’s, Conall’s, and now Pen Ferguson’s room. And I think, of all of them, this one might be my favorite.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“You know, it's a little sad when you have to explain the punch line of a joke, Chan."
"I only explain my jokes," I retort, in the haughtiest tone I can muster, "to those too stupid to get them.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Sometimes I need to remember that a stone is just a stone, a horse is just a horse. One of the first things you ever learn at vet school is not to make things more complex than they outwardly seem. When you hear the sound of hooves, one of our first-year lecturers had said, assume it is a horse, not a Pegasus. It means: Always go for the simplest explanation first— the most common. Horses are common. Even unicorns are. But, being both shy and extremely rare, Pegasuses are almost never seen, even by the most experienced myth.creat vets in the world.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“I never forget to check the animals' names. Memorize their signalments. My attention alway zeroes in on what I'm most interested in... the patient.
It's only ever the humans whose names I forget; who I tend to see as an unfortunate, unavoidable side effect of a career working with animals.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“People sometimes look at me strangely for talking to my patients like they’re human. But whatever. They’re magical. They’re familiars. Clearly, they understand more than they let on.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Only millimeters separate his lips from mine... but in this moment, it could well be miles. A distance that spans seven years, full of endless taunting, fierce rivalry, animosity, contempt—
But Harrisford... Harrisford doesn't seem to feel the distance, because he's leaning in, he's pulling my face to his, he's pressing his lips, which are unexpectedly soft, against mine.
His tongue sweeps against my mouth and I sigh, opening up to him, so that the kiss— which starts out slow, and tentative, and full of unexplored yearning— suddenly becomes so much... more.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“This time, when we kiss, it’s no longer feverish—it’s tender, like the sweetest-tasting honey; like the warmth of a setting sun; like the first scent of spring dissolving a frozen winter.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Oh, Gwendolynne,” he says, his voice like liquid velvet, his lips brushing my ear. “When I finally fuck you, I don’t intend on getting any sleep.”
I try— and fail— to stifle a whimper. “What if I need you to fuck me to get some sleep, then?”
Harrisford’s eyes darken, and this time it’s his hips that flex against mine. For a moment, he does nothing. Says nothing. But then in one swift movement he stands— lifting me as though I’m a feather and not a full-grown adult woman— and throws me over one shoulder.
“Briggs,” I gasp out. “What the fuck?”
“Where is your bedroom, Gwendolynne?”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“I suddenly understand why she's acting so flabbergasted. I'd gone and ordered her favorite drink without even fucking realizing it. And it occurs to me that, embarrassingly, the reason— the only reason— I know it by heart is because I'm more aware of her than I'd care to admit.
It's just because you need to beat her, my mind insists obstinately. And it's true— I've been watching her for years, attempting to sniff out her weaknesses, trying to figure out her methods and why she's so smart and how I can one-up her in each exam. She's my ultimate rival, the only witch who has ever unseated me from top place.
Though it still doesn't really explain why I've noticed her in the lunchroom. Or why I've memorized the way she makes her tea when she thinks no one else is looking.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“Qíllíns are considered the Chinese equivalent of unicorns, though they don’t look like unicorns at all, not really. For one, they usually have two antlers instead of one horn, and their heads are dragon-esque with long thick beards and manes. In fact, the only thing that qílíns and unicorns have in common is that they are both four-legged and have hooves.
I don't know why a qílín has been brought to Seamere. As far as I can recall, the zoo’s qílín is rainbow-colored, so this one must be from a private trader. There are collectors that import mythical beasts from all over the globe, bartering and negotiating and spending way too much on those that are strange and rare.
This qílín is luminescent, her coat gold-and-red ombré, the golden scales darkening to a deep red at each of her four hooved feet. And she’s clearly in labor. Her golden tail is flicking, and every few minutes her entire abdomen contracts, her jewel-like eyes rolling.
Dystocia. She’s having difficulty giving birth.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“My hand shakes, and I jerk the blade away from his throat. He must have been a little tense, even though he hid it well, because he actually loosens a breath in relief.
But his relief is short-lived when he sees what I’m doing instead.
“Would you prefer an open or closed castration?” I say evenly, my eyes narrowed, now pointing the scalpel squarely at his crotch. “A scrotal or pre-scrotal incision? Take your pick, Briggs— I’m well trained in all the methods.”
He swallows hard, and I give him a smile as falsely sweet as sugar-free syrup. “I guess I’ve discovered what you truly value, huh?” I say. Typical.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“The day I after I graduated as the top student of Seamere, I received the formalized offer to join the Ministry. The same offer that is extended to the top student every single year. The job I’d been working toward for seven fucking years.
And, very politely, I’d thanked them for their consideration… and respectfully declined.
I declined it because I have a new focus now: to infiltrate the Void again and rescue Harrisford Briggs. The man who, according to his oldest friend, loves me— even though he’d never worked up the courage to say it. The man who chose to sacrifice himself so the rest of us could escape. So that I escape.
Now, with hindsight, I can appreciate it with burning clarity. The way he’d tried, using several approaches, to convince me to save myself. And when I didn’t agree, well. He made the decision for me.
The man who, once I figure out how to find and remove his Source, I still hope to go in and rescue, and bring him home.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars

“If you’ve ever worked with large animals, you’d know that controlling them is not about physical size or force. It’s about intelligence. Work smarter, not harder, as the lecturers say. Even the smallest veterinarian can tip a sheep, compel a unicorn to move, or restrain a dragon inside a crush.”
― Keshe Chow, Strange Familiars