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Audiobook
First published January 1, 2010
Me, I'm Chance Fortunato. I'm a familiar, which is just a fancy word for slave. I pimp souls for [Dulka the Demon Count] and do his dirty work. (p. 21)
"Give me a chance to make this right somehow," I whispered into the night. "I'll do whatever it takes. I swear I will. (p. 81)
The marching band was already going, playing some song I'd never heard before, or maybe playing one I did know so badly I didn't recognize it in its clever new disguise. (p. 412)
I caught a familiar flash of red in my peripheral vision and switched my gaze back toward the couch as Alexis moved in from my left and bent over the wounded jock. I barely tore my eyes from the way the leather stretched tight across her ass in time to catch her pulling the bloody bandage from his shoulder. (p. 467)
In the Hive, you could find pretty much anything if you knew who to bribe. Forbidden tomes of Infernal lore, illegal ingredients from endangered creatures, or reality-warping devices were all here, for a price. If you knew where to look and who to ask, you could buy people here, mostly by the hour, and oblivion, usually by the gram. (p. 276)
After cleaning up animal sacrifices, or, for that matter, making them, taking out the trash was easy. (p. 204)
At least in algebra, the formulas stayed the same all the time, and didn't change with the stars. (p. 154)
"I'm in charge wherever I am, boy, especially with this bunch. I was making werewolves before your mother was spreading her legs for the locals.
"Did he just go straight to insulting your Mom, Chance? Because that's like, the ass end of lame," Lucas asked from behind me. (p. 518)
"Screw that!" Lucas said vehemently. "This guy knows who we are, and I smarted off to him. We're as ass-deep in alligators as anyone else in this room. We deserve to know the whole truth!" (p. 546)
I did my best [to speak French], but I mangled the words at first. As I went along, it got easier, and I liked having something with a little beauty to it running around in my head. (p.184)
She put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me to her. I was too messed up to give up even a token protest, though I was probably breaking about a dozen rules of being a teenager by letting my mom hug me in public. (p. 265)
"Well, I have a problem with karma. It's not perfect. I didn't do anything to deserve being Dulka's bitch for eight years. If you think I'm going to get back violence three times as bad for what I did today, then let me tell you something. I have enough scars that I ought to have a little credit on the books. But if not, then fine, I can handle it. I'm used to it by now. What I can't handle is a system that kicks me around for doing something good for someone, even if I have to get a little bloody to do it, just because someone says violence is always bad." I stopped as Wanda took a half step back, and felt like an ass when I saw the shocked look on her face. (p. 583)
Conclave vengeance was cold, calculated, and almost always done from a distance. Mr. Chomsky deserved better than that. He deserved better from me. I couldn't walk away. (p. 317)
Then two hundred pounds of fur, teeth and muscle hit the ground a foot away from me with a muted yelp.
"Bad dog!" I said again, shaking the rod at it for emphasis. "BAD! DOG! No biscuit!" (p. 422)
"Wait for me."
"Until the sun never rises," I said, quoting an old oath. (p. 506)
I knew then what it was like to be... pure, whole of body and spirit, and never to have known pain so intense that it made me hallucinate. I knew what it felt like to be free. Not only to be free, but to have always been free, never to have bowed my head to someone I didn't trust or respect. To have had my dignity intact my entire life. To see all that, and end up back in my own head made me feel ever worse. (p. 442)