Quotes from Ilona Andrews

Besides, if we were going to brawl, we wouldn't do it in corporate headquarters." "Precisely," Augustine said. "We observe all necessary formalities before murdering each other.

Some things can come to pass, he reminded himself. Some things are improbable, and some are impossible.

Barabas always managed to project an air of urbane, civilized polish that came with a sharp edge. Tall, lean, and pale, he had fire-bright red hair that stuck out from his head like a forest of aggressive spikes. If he ever frosted his hair blue, he'd look like a gas burner.

Or I can put his head into my mouth." "That doesn't seem sanitary. Wouldn't you taste their hair? Is that just a thing you do because you get bored in Alaska?

Angel, while diplomatic, suffered from an eloquent man's malady—faced with silence, he felt compelled to fill it, even when it was in his best interests to keep his mouth shut.

When visitors came to the fine state of Texas, they expected a dry, rolling plain studded with longhorn cattle, oil derricks, and an occasional cowboy in a huge hat. According to them, that plain had only one type of weather: scorching. That wasn't true at all. In fact, we had two types, drought and flood.

Mom?" Mother turned to Grandmother. "What?" "She's going to lunch with her kidnapper!" "Take a picture for me," Grandma said.

You're a fucking mess," Curran's voice said.

He pressed the trigger again. The gun farted. A woman with a child in her cart looked at us. Sean's mouth slowly stretched into a smile. "Okay, fine." I sped toward the checkout. A fart. "Will you stop doing that?" Another fart. "Sean! What are you, five?" He laughed under his breath.

Once an opponent fell into a pattern, they became predictable—and they could be defeated.

Love and hate are both means of emotional control to which we subject ourselves. Once you were done with me, you'd want to be free of the pain of betrayal. Absolutely free.

Cults exploited people, and those who got sucked in, especially on the bottom layer of the hierarchy, weren't usually bad people. They were looking for something better, a little bit of hope, or a way to deal with overwhelming things in their life. Instead, they ended up as free labor, brainwashed and used, their vulnerabilities and fears molded into a leash that held them in place.

And I'm too old to appear anything that I'm not.

As soon as we were out the doors, I turned to Sean. "Will you take this seriously? The future of an entire species is at stake." "Yes, we're going to save them with a fart gun." "Don't!" Fart. Ugh.

the Ennui predator.

Contrary to popular opinion, people who have money refuse to part with it, unless they absolutely have to do it.

Control your horse!" Jim snarled. " You control your horse." Oh wow, now that was a clever comeback. He'd surely drop to his knees and bow before my intellectual brilliance.

Sometimes the Universe smiled. Mostly she kicked me in the face, stomped on my ribs once I fell down, and laughed at my pain, but once in a while she smiled. It was Wednesday.

I might be crazy, but I was very rarely wrong, and I had a strong feeling that life in the suburbs of Red Deer, Texas, had just gotten a lot more complicated.

He drew me like a damn magnet. I wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anybody before in my life. For those few moments, he'd made me feel safe, wanted, needed, desirable, but it was an illusion. I had to get a grip.

There was a desperate need about the way he moved, as if he was trying to rend the fabric of reality to pieces. He loved me, I realized. He loved me so much, and the wounds of Nexus had barely scabbed over. The prophecy had pushed him over the edge. He had to vent or it would tear him apart from the inside out.

We had accepted this job pro bono, because snatching a service animal from a child in a wheelchair was a heinous act and someone had to make it right.

You can come with me and triumph against impossible odds, or you can reject the challenge of the gods and stay here. Would you rather be a hero in charge of your own destiny or a martyr wallowing in self-pity? What will it be?

I'm ashamed to be your daughter. I should walk the street apologizing to everyone I meet for the fact that you still exist