Quotes from Jeff Lindsay

I blinked. I had just had another thought, something very significant; I was quite sure of it. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there. I rewound my thoughts, marching them by again at a slower speed. I sat up even straighter in my chair as I scanned—and there it was. I don't know if I found it because I had such excellent posture, but just in case, I sent a little mental thank-you card back through time to Mrs. Parker.

Of what? Wasn't he my very own brother? Shouldn't that cover over everything else in a blanket of sanctimony? Surely I could trust him—but with everything? With my secret identity, my Fortress of Solitude—and even Lily Anne, my Kryptonite?

She leaned back against the wall of the elevator car, eyes still closed. "It's a kind of—what do they call it? Noblesse oblige." She opened one eye and pointed it at me. "Which sounds pretty pompous, I know.

For a minute or two we just slurped our coffee in comfortable silence. I didn't feel any pressure to say clever and interesting things, and apparently neither did Jackie. Our reverie was finally shattered by the sound of the house phone, clamoring for attention. She jerked up to her feet, muttered, "Shit," and stepped back in through the sliding glass door to answer it.

Cody stood looking up at Brian, his feet spread apart and his hands hanging stiffly at his sides. Their eyes locked together and I could hear the leathery unfolding of wings between them, the dark and sibilant greeting of twin interior specters. There was a look of belligerent wonder on Cody's face, and he just stared for a long moment and Brian stared back, and finally Cody looked at me. "Like me," he said. "Shadow Guy.

I went to bed and slid immediately into sleep, visions of dollar bills dancing in my head. They were all waving good-bye. It

I said nothing. After all, you really should understand a remark before you respond to it, and I didn't. Clearly Jackie was in a philosophical mood—but whether the evening would turn toward Aristotle or existentialism, I couldn't tell from her comment on Benny's Normalness. And as the best philosophers will tell you, the rest is silence anyway, so I kept quiet.

It could well be that somewhere in Miami really knowledgeable people—druids, perhaps—were nodding their heads and murmuring, "Ahhh, Jupiter is in a retrograde moon of Saturn," and pouring another cup of herb tea while they lounged around in Birkenstocks. Or

There would be no struggle, no negotiation, nothing but an end to all that is Dexter.

At least you can be grateful," Brian said, "that I am not the type who insists on saying, told you so." "Didn't you just say it?" I asked him. "Nobody's perfect," he said, and put the car in gear. "What now?

I got Jackie into the suite without any outbursts of Kantian Dialectic, and as we settled into our chairs on the balcony and waited for mojitos, Kathy knocked on the door, bustling past me with a haughty glare when I let her in, and heading straight out to Jackie, her hands full of papers and her eternal phone and Starbucks cup.

Of course, that made it seem even worse: I had killed for room service. What a terrible, low creature I was. I wondered whether I should feel cheap and tawdry, or perhaps just jaded and callous. How much lower could I sink? I was already indifferent to the suffering of my victims, so I couldn't really try to make that fit a new and colder me, if there actually was one.

Ten minutes passed. A woman in a business suit walked by outside and climbed into her car—or at any rate, I assumed it was her car. If not, she was a very smooth car thief.

Yes, I know, the blessed event," he said. "Into each life some domesticity must fall.

The idea was intoxicating, and I believe I actually swayed a little as I tasted it.

felt my jaw muscles moving, but no matter how carefully I listened, I did not hear myself saying anything. Brian watched me with real enjoyment for a moment before he finally spoke up.

I felt my jaw muscles moving, but no matter how carefully I listened, I did not hear myself saying anything. Brian watched me with real enjoyment for a moment before he finally spoke up.

We rolled across town through light traffic, mostly keeping our thoughts to ourselves. Several times I caught Jackie looking at me with what could only be called a secret smirk, and while it's nice to be the target of other people's happiness, I didn't get any joy from her barely suppressed amusement—especially since I had no idea what was causing it.

Of course I am," I said. "Give her time to get well. Everything will be fine." No lightning struck me when I said it, so I suppose it was possible that I was right.

I opened the door and Brian stepped through. "Brother," he said. "We may not have a lot of time." "That thought had occurred to me," I said. "Along with a few others of a more personal nature." He showed me his teeth and took my elbow. "Time for recriminations later," he said. "Right now there's work to do.

Cody and Astor exchanged another of their eloquent looks, in which no sound was made but a great deal was said. "Mom," Astor said, "we're playing with our new sister." She said it as if it were in quotation marks, so Rita couldn't possibly object. But Rita was an old hand at the game, and she shook her head.

A few minutes later, Kukarov himself came out, locked the door, and got into a Jaguar parked half a block away. The car started right up, which contradicted all I had ever heard about Jaguars, and Kukarov drove away, off into the dawn to Morticia and a peaceful day of rest in his crypt. I

It was a quick drive on a Saturday morning, and we pulled into the short circular driveway in front of the hotel only fifteen minutes later. Once again I got out and pantomimed eternal vigilance, looking all around for any sign of a lurking Patrick. I

After only a few seconds the door opened, and I had a very unsettling moment of disorientation. The man who opened the door and stood looking down at us was very nearly a dead ringer for Lurch, the butler on the old Addams Family TV show. He was close to seven feet tall and wore a classic butler's outfit, complete with morning coat. But happily for my sense of unreality, when he spoke to us it was in a high voice with a thick Cuban accent. "Joo rang?" he said. Deborah