Karla Martinez

“Demon?” Gwen gasped out. Her back jerked ramrod-straight, and her face leeched of
color. “Did you just say demon?”

Oh, uh…did I say that?” Strider once again glanced around the plane helplessly. “No, no.
I think I said seaman.”
― Gena Showalter, The Darkest Whisper

“William: What's your nickname?
Maddox: I do not have one.
William" I'm happy to give you one. Captain Ass. What do you think?
Maddox: I can leave.
William: New nickname: Big Baby. Anyway, let's continue...”
― Gena Showalter, Into the Dark

“Twenty-seven.”
His brow puckered, and he blinked over at her. “Twenty-seven hundred years, right?”
If he were speaking to Taliyah, yes. “No. Just twenty-seven plain, ordinary years.”
“You don’t mean human years, do you?”
“No. I mean dog years,” she said dryly, then pressed her lips together. Where was the filter that was usually poised over her mouth? Strider didn’t seem to mind, though. Rather, he seemed stupefied. Would Sabin have had the same reaction were he awake? “What’s so hard to believe about my age?” As the question echoed between them, a thought occurred to her and she blanched. “Do I look ancient?”
“No, no. Of course not. But you’re immortal. Powerful.”
― Gena Showalter, The Darkest Whisper

“I tried to tell you. You said you didn't care, remember?"
A muscle ticked below his eye. "You should have told me anyway."
"While you had barbells within your reach? Please. I'm Disease, not Stupid.”
― Gena Showalter, The Darkest Night