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“Don’t underestimate the power of revenge as a motivator. It makes people dangerous. Irrational.”

‘My stomach sank. My ticket out of Endlock was currently being hunted by bloodthirsty citizens with guns.’

“There will be Christmas carols. Socialization. I wanted to spare you.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m already dead, Harriet. One night of socialization is hardly an inconvenience.”

‘Maybe I don’t fit anywhere. Maybe I’m not supposed to.
Maybe my best bet is a ghost with a guilt complex.’

‘The entirety of my existence, I’ve been urging time to pass. Now I desperately want it to slow down.’

“I could spend an eternity studying you and still not know what you might do next. You give so much of yourself, so freely. You’re…wild with your attention. Miraculous. I’ve seen so many lives, Harriet, but I’ve never seen someone live like you.”

‘“Your hair,” he says faintly. “What’s been done to it?”
I snort. He sounds winded. Devastated. “I straightened it.”
“Why?”’

‘Kiss me as much as you can, I beg in my head. Kiss me until I can’t possibly forget you.’

“You’re the first thing in a hundred years to make me feel anything at all, Harriet York, and I don’t think that’s an accident.”

‘“You can’t buy my forgiveness with overpriced holiday drinks.”
That’s a lie. My forgiveness can absolutely be bought with overpriced holiday drinks, especially if he remembered to get whipped cream on top.’

‘I don’t move. Neither does she. It’s the two of us pressed together in the dark. I’m standing at the edge of a choice, temptation tugging at me.’

‘I didn’t tell her to change because I was worried she’d be cold. I told her to change because if I had to watch the tiny strap of her camisole drift over her shoulder one more time, I was going to put my fist through a wall.’

‘If I were feeling calmer, I’d be delighted by the way he says cuppa. As it is, I’m trying to convince myself I’m not about to be murdered.
Again.’

‘I haven’t touched anyone for reassurance in decades. No one has touched me for even longer. I’ve only had sharp edges and curt words. I’ve forgotten what softness feels like.’

‘Christmas has always been my favourite time of year. It’s the only time of year when it feels like magic might be real, hovering somewhere close to the surface. Like you can reach out and touch it.’

‘His hand tightened on the mantel, knuckles going white. “Why must you always sacrifice yourself, and call that love?”’

“Kier has made a mistake trying to save me. And we’re going to find him and force him to his knees and make him fucking beg for forgiveness.”

‘She understood their humour now, despite herself. It was a mask over the anger they all carried, the fear. It was its own kind of armour.’

“How easily,” he murmured, “you give up your magic to me.”

“You’re alive,” she said into his chest, breathing too hard, as if she needed to reassure herself. He smelled like he always did, sunlight and clean linen and his mothers’ lavender soap. He smelled like home.

‘All around her was the ebb and flow of magic, so thick she could taste it, as a dozen skirmishes were lost and won and recoupled. It was a sick feeling, how the magic in the air refilled her own personal store even faster.’

‘As a well, she was the river, the source that made the magic move.’

“…I have waited an eternity to meet you, Signa Farrow.”

‘A thrill of power surged through her blood as the world opened itself for her bidding.’

‘It was unfortunate, the way societal rules could hinder a person. How much simpler life would be not to have to think about what she was expected to eat, and in what order. She strongly preferred Death’s philosophy of simply wanting something and taking it.’

‘All her life, she’d hated Death. And yet she’d spent her years chasing after him like a moth to a flame.’

‘If there was one constant that Signa could count on, it was that no matter where she was, Death would find her.’

‘The child is cursed by Death, some said. The wickedest of witches, spawned by the devil himself. Wherever she goes, the reaper will follow.’

‘Death did not need to be seen; he was to be felt. He was a weight upon the chest, or a collar buttoned too tight. A fall into frigid, lethal waters.
Death was suffocating, and he was ice.’