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“Ethan Wate! I was there the day you were born, and I’ll be there the day you die, from this side or the other.”
“You Mortals are even more screwed up than Supernaturals.”
“Did you know he could do that?” John whispered. “I don’t even know what he did.”
“He can Travel?” That was impossible. Macon walked toward us. “Parlor tricks, from a third-rate magician.” John stared at Macon
“I’ll take care of Amarie, Ethan. Whether she wants me to or not.”
Three Moons and more than 1,600 pages from the day we sat down to prove to a few smack-talking teenagers that we could write a book, our extended Caster family couldn’t even fit on one or two pages, if we tried to name you all.
