...what an unfair advantage the dead had over the living, for there could be no rebuttal, no denial, nothing but the accusing silence of the grave.
During the day, memories could be held at bay, but at night, dreams became the devil's own accomplices.
He was trying to tell me something." Derek snorted. "Aren’t they all? Must be a rule in the ghost handbook—if in danger of evaporating, make sure you’re in the middle of a dire pronouncement.
This is what I wanted. This guy. This life. This me. I was never getting my old life back, and I didn't care. I was happy. I was safe. I was right where I wanted to be.
I’ll admit that my garden now grows hope in lavish profusion, leaving little room for anything else. I suppose it has squeezed out more practical plants like caution and common sense. Still, though, hope does not flourish in every garden, and I fee...
I glanced up to see Liz and smiled. "Thank you." "I just went along for the ride. After that happened-" She waved at Derek. "You know how blind people need Seeing Eye dogs? Well, apparently werewolves could really use Opening Door poltergeists.
I might be half Derek's size, but I was the one who sounded like a two-hundred-pound beast plowing through the woods.
You were just worried about me." An exhale, relieved that I had understood. "Yeah" I turned. "Because you think I'm worth it" He put his fingers under my chin. "I absolutely think your worth it." "But you don't think you are." His mouth opened. Shut....
You know children, always playing with the forces of darkness.
