The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

by V.E. Schwab

“Spells are for witches, and witches are too often burned.”

“With gifts, and praise, and even then, the old gods are fickle. They are not bound to answer.”

“The old gods are everywhere,” she says. “They swim in the river, and grow in the field, and sing in the woods. They are in the sunlight on the wheat, and under the saplings in spring, and in the vines that grow up the side of that stone church. They gather at the edges of the day, at dawn, and at dusk.”

“You must humble yourself before them. You must offer them a gift. Something precious to you. And you must be careful what you ask for.”

“The old gods may be great, but they are neither kind nor merciful. They are fickle, unsteady as moonlight on water, or shadows in a storm. If you insist on calling them, take heed: be careful what you ask for, be willing to pay the price.” She leans over Adeline, casting her in shadow. “And no matter how desperate or dire, never pray to the gods that answer after dark.”