Quotes from Cherie Priest

But the other half of my motivation came from farther back in my brain, in the curious part that I inherited. It came from the spot in my skull that feels the burning need to unravel puzzles, finish crosswords, indulge in Internet games, and read all the mystery books I can get my grubby little paws on. Like it or not, need it or not, and want it or not, I can't leave a good mystery alone.

You see, sometimes when you work by yourself in a field such as ours, it helps to share knowledge among professionals. I'm not saying that we watch one another's back or anything, because we don't. It's more of a back-scratching than a back-watching affair, as in, "You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours." Officially, none of us has ever heard of any of us.

He was carrying bulky loot; I could see it under his zipped-up sweater. And when I unzipped it with a one-handed rip, I saw that he was wearing a bandolier loaded with grenades. I have no doubt that a wide, manic smile spread across my pretty little face.

It sounded like a good idea at the time, which is probably going to be on my tombstone—along with a catty footnote about poor impulse control. But

He hadn't found what he'd meant to find, but his need to swipe and hoard something had been appeased for now.

For some reason the mundanity of it all offended Gideon. You'd think people would have the good grace to dress up for an assassination.

The distance between an honest Christian mystic and a fortune-teller is sometimes less than half a whisper. Less than a pot of tea or the space between two book covers.

I shrugged. "Sometimes things sound easy because they are easy." "And sometimes things that sound easy only sound that way because you're completely fucking delusional," she

Maybe we could do that whole "my enemy's enemy" thing and skip off into the night, holding hands.

This may be a shitty work environment, but OSHA doesn't have any guidelines when it comes to ghosts. We'll have to make up our own as we go.

Without temptation, there was no virtue in resistance.

I met his eyes because I could not refuse them... they were the color of a storm clashing with a setting sun.

So here's the rules - keep quiet, keep close, and if we're spotted, climb like a goddamned monkey…If I get picked off, you don't come back for me. If I see you get picked off, I aint coming back for you. Life's hard. Death's easy

And here I thought you didn't want to break and enter," Trick said. "Dude, shut up.

I fully planned to burn the place down behind me on general principle. I was getting the hang of arson. It really sends a message, you know? Not only will I kill your dudes and steal your shit, but I will burn your place down behind me. Yes, I will.

I'd seen better days, but I wasn't about to instigate widespread panic with my appearance, either. I made a show of washing up and pretending that I was an ordinary, civilized woman who was, perhaps, recovering from a bad date—and who had most certainly not been hiding bodies in anybody's basement.

Yes it's pink. That's how you know it's for ladies. That might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say.

In my career I've had my hands upon more revolting bodies than a layman is likely to encounter in a lifetime of trying. I've squeezed boils, soaked my hands in blood and pus, slipped in entrails, swaddled slippery stillborns, and pulled excrement from unwilling bowels by hand.

I would let the whole town think I'm a madwoman and a murderer, let it scorn and reject me, let its children compose hateful rhymes to be sung whilst jumping rope.

Vampirism is like Photoshop for the flesh – it fills out, rounds off, smooths over, and brightens up everything. I'Ve seen cancer patients turn into supermodels with a good undead infusion.

Barringtons aren't local by origin. They're carpetbaggers from Philadelphia—an offshoot of a House that had grown too big to govern. Or more to the point, it'd grown too big for everyone to successfully get along without a whole lot of murdering going on.

I guess because, well, just because it was able to evolve. When it couldn't be one thing anymore, it became something else and kept on living that way

I'd learned that Holtzer Point was a top secret facility in St. Paul, Minnesota. I'd gathered that much already, but it was nice to have it confirmed by a series of websites that appeared to have been composed by middle-school-aged conspiracy theorists with a passion for stupid-looking animated graphics.

Over and over again, we lift God out of our reach. Over and over, push Him beyond our grasp, yet still we stretch out our fingers and seek to touch Him. But find nothing.