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309 pages, Paperback
First published May 13, 2010
Timothy Ray Zornenbach. As in Ray Zor. Razor. (p. 102)
Razor. Not just because he was fast, sharp, and dangerous. But also because self-irony was necessary to keep him from morbid self-pity. Razor. Because of how he’d been altered beyond repair – by the straight razor blade that the old man had used one night after drugging him, leaving him to wake in blood and horror. (p. 300)
“Trust me.” Razor had been using the conversation to distract her. That was one of an illusionist’s foundations.
He allowed a flashball to roll into his palm.
He dropped it. (p. 113)
“Are you insane? You still not convinced that chances are better with me?” (p. 82)
“Can you understand, even a little, how much it destroys a family when a child among them loses the lottery? How much they all hate Influentials for putting them in that position? How much they hate themselves for choosing survival over the hell a child must go through to pay for it?” (p. 113)
“What I want,” Caitlyn said, “is a father for my children. A good father. And a place to raise them safely.” (…)
“That sounds like good-bye.” He knew that wasn’t true. It might not have been good-bye. It could just as easily been a beginning. But Razor didn’t want to find out. And wouldn’t give her a chance to tell. Better to always believe she might have chosen him.
He kissed her palm, dropped her hand, and stepped back.
“I’m not the kind of guy who would make a good father,” he said. (p. 300-something/ page notation illegible)