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And too long, too long, these feet that hung in the cold air, and this length of clawed finger on gristle hands too weary to move from where they had been cast outwards like the crucified of the air. He was gone from himself and was inside this thing.

The rest of the figure had flung its arms above a threadbare head. The chin was raised. And pale eyes were rolled back in an ecstasy that was horrible to behold.... Strands adrift from the patchy skull could have been lengths of unhealthy hair or some sort of headdress.
It was striding. There was no other word for it. Striding as if through the wall, and downward from above. The image suggested the idea...

Toward the middle of the wall, he came across what looked like feet... They hovered a yard from the ground, as if ... levitating. [Kyle] immediately snapped the Zippo shut. Then realized the darkness beneath those fleshless toes was worse than the sight of them and he fumbled to get the lighter ignited. And saw not just the feet again, but the entire silhouette and in more detail...

She is clearly checking out Ferron, ogling his family portrait when she's not watching him, and I'm to believe that she cannot stand him. The author went out of her way to make him a good looking man for this migrant chick that's obsessed with white guys. It's not the corpses but the "heroine" that makes my skin crawl. Her being suicidal reads completely unbelievable. I don't think I can read any more of this shit.

[She focused on [Ferron's] face, trying not to see the ocean of black surrounding her.]

three dialogue lines later

[she'd rather suffocate in the [black] hallways than be near Ferron]

God dammit. Even though this is not well written and I know the history, I still bawled my eyes out.

somehow the author, despite his convoluted writing, managed to show that Vlad had gone a bit insane after the night attack

having Vlad unleash his falcon to kill Hamza's bird was one of the few good parts in this mess of a book.

still reading, but this writer cannot write real people, what he can do is bludgeon you to death with his research

a few good passages jumped at me, but they were impossible to enjoy in the convoluted opening. Then the confession starts and I't thrown into the flattest scene where the dialogue drones on between young Vlad and some majestic (blond) turk (vomit) from which Vlad comes across as wise Mary Sue.

Count Kraft von Toggenburg: strong and aggressive nobleman, involved in constant feuds with his neighbors. Now picture him return back to his keep after he's just burned down his neighbor's village, blood and screams still clinging to his armor... Once disarmed he sits at this desk and writes:
Flowers, foliage, hill and dale,
and the May-time summer-sweet delight
likened to the rose are pale
which my lady wears...

I saw the fairest in all the lands
and I can never sing of another now.
To her bright eyes and smooth, white hands,
wherever she may be, I'll always bow.
If with this shapely lady I might breed some children strong,
or just make love to her the whole night long!
Oho! But that would be too much: 't would be enough, if in her service I might sing my song
-- composed by Heinrich I, Count of Anhalt (c. 1170 – 1252)

Why set your story in the past when you cannot be bothered to do even the most basic research?

“I didn’t start small, with the gentle siphoning of blood from a lover in bed. I launched myself into the midst of my attackers like a fury from myth.”

she brags even about the way she did her first kill.

“Tip your head back.” I did as you ordered, letting the water run through my hair. I always did as you ordered, in those days.”
What a little whiny, permanently triggered douchbag.

Great, the FMC is an arrogant blowhard.
“I was somebody’s daughter once; a village girl with arms strong enough to help her father in the smithy and a mind quick enough to recall her mother’s shopping list in the market.”

I served a lady with heart and sword,
but all my love brought no reward.
And still I speak of her with only praise,
although her gaze has never yet been turned to me in kindness.
I fancied I was free of passion's blindness,
but still in bands, my heart sought favor from her hands,
which it has never gotten, I must say.
I'll serve Him now who will my love repay.

When you bore the child you were undefiled, pure, as was God's plan, untouched by any man. Who thinks that such a thing cannot be true should look upon the glass, that's so like you. The beams of sunlight penetrate the glass and gleam and grow more radiant as they pass, through the glass into the house they flow and drive away the darkness as they go.

beautiful description of Owd Hobb

it's the nonchalance with which Sophie chugs alcohol and sleeps around, that sickens me and makes it hard to follow a character like. How was Jessie exactly worse than her?

veering from 4 to 3 stars

some of the nastiest skank, alcoholic FMCs I've ever read about.

LOL to win Katia's heart, Vitali (Russian killer) bought a microwave for K's mother and now her mother is bending backwards for him.
"Mama came thundering in and ordered Maxim away to change clothes. She instructed Vitali to pull out the table and ushered me into the kitchen to get the 'good' dining set--the one with the small blue flowers on a white background she didn't even bring out on my birthday."

Svitla mi iskierka nadeje, a to je lepsie ako z niecoho sa radovat. Kvapka nadeje prebudza smad, kym jej naplnenie ho alebo zahasi, alebo priniesie sklamanie.

Yahweh goes Death Metal
Jeremiah 7: "...the days are coming when it will no more be called Topheth...but the Valley of Slaughter...And the dead bodies of this people will be food for the birds of the air, and for the beasts..., and none will frighten them away. And I will silence in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness...and the land shall become waste.

“I won’t be put off,” Marie said firmly. “Before this night is over, I will know how you came by that watch, or I swear to you, I will tell anyone who will listen to me that you murdered your mother.”

“I’ve never been so ashamed in my life—ashamed of my family, and ashamed of myself.”
Charlie’s face twisted with annoyance. “Well, that’s just jolly. Think of it as practice for what’s in store for all of us if he goes to the police.”
“At least one good thing would come from that,” Marie said, matter-of-factly, “I would never have to see you or Papa again.”