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He was a poison snake, and I was another, and on such terms we pleased ourselves.

The poets were always correct,'' I say softly. ''You are half my soul.

That's the strangest of all. I look down at his blood and know my death is coming. But in the dream I do not mind. What I feel, most of all, is relief.

Whatever she tried, my spells would hold. Not even Odysseus could talk his way past witchcraft. He had talked his way past the witch instead.

The door snicked shut.

Achilles makes a sound like choking. "There are no bargains between lions and men. I will kill you and eat you raw.

The look that passed over her face. Like a comet indeed, when it veers to earth and turns the fields to ash.

I haunt their dreams. Do not leave, I beg them. Not until you have given me peace. But if anyone hears, they do not answer.

the place I truly dwelt, a cold eternity of endless grief.

Both of us were imprisoned. But I pressed his face into my mind, as seals are pressed in wax, so I could carry it with me.

Name one hero who was happy. You can't.' 'I can't.' 'I know. They never let you be famous and happy. I'll tell you a secret.' 'Tell me.' 'I'm going to be the first. Swear it.' 'Why me?' 'Because you're the reason.

It seemed absurd even to think of it, foolish and improbable as a dream is by dinner.

I fixed my gaze on his. "Try," I said. For a long moment he stared at me. Then he turned and twitched off through the brush. I tell you, for all my spells, that was the first time I truly felt myself a witch..

And you think to steal time from the Fates?" "Yes." "Ah." A sly smile spread across his face; he had always loved defiance. "Well, why should I kill him? He's done nothing to me." For the first time then, I felt a kind of hope.

I kneel before him, his leg in my hands. "Eurypylus," I say. "Can you speak?" "Fucking Paris," he says.

Water still streamed from his hair, and I watched it bead, tracing across his arms and the lines of his chest.

Prince Achilles! Aristos Achaion! As

Were all his better actions only so many Pharisaic sops thrown one by one into the mouth of a Cerberus of selfishness, monstrous and insane? Was

That is the flaw in my personality. Vanity. And your flaw is sentimentality. They are the flaws which will inevitably kill us both.

Gian Gravina? 'A bore is a person who deprives you of solitude without providing you with company.' 

A sulphur sun pierced the gloom, and the rain stopped and I drove to the hospital.

She asked me what Meyer had meant about her having a broken wing. I said he was one of the last of the great romantics. I said there used to be two. But now there was just the one left. The hairy one.

Bud edged up next to a young man in a butcher's apron who had a baseball cap on backwards.

Golly, I could drink a cup of coffee," said Mac. "We'll have swell coffee in Seattle, damned if we won't, Mac.