Quotes from Steven Montano

The sound of a feeding was impossible to ignore. Cross heard the smack of teeth, and sucking sounds so loud he swore they came from there in the room. He heard pained moans and animal barks. It amused him to think that once, so very long ago, these creatures had been painted as romantics by fiction writers. They were animals, pure and simple, vicious of heart, evil of spirit, malign in their sole drive to wipe humanity out.

He prays with them, only it isn't prayer, not truly, for there are no gods there, no deities except for the soot angels, twisted succubi whose likenesses are cast upon a slab of stone: a mongrel avatar, an orgy of dark seraphim twisted together in a violent erotic dance. Claws and teeth and bat's wings fuse together.

He's tired of watching his friends die," Cross said quietly. "We're all tired of watching friends die. It doesn't make him special." "Well," Cristena said, "it doesn't make it easy, either.

The dead have the easy road: they know the way, because that decision has already been made for them. Only the living are lost.

When you hold hands with the dead, eventually they pull you into the grave.

She shrugged. "Saving lives doesn't mean much to me," she said. "You have to protect what's yours. That's all that matters.

Blood-colored clouds stained the eerie crystal sky. The Darkhawk sailed low over a landscape covered with dead forests, dry plains, empty riverbeds and long-abandoned train tracks. Everything wound through a twisted network of jagged hills the color of bones, and pools of brackish water ran across the landscape like puss.

The worst monsters are the human ones.