Empire of the Damned (Empire of the Vampire, #2)

by Jay Kristoff

‘By the Blood, I vow it. I know not where this road will lead us, girl. But I’ll walk it with you, to whatever fate awaits. And if God Himself should tear us asunder, if all the Endless Legion stood in my path, I would find my way back from the shores of the abyss to fight at your side. I’ll not leave you, Dior.’

‘The road is black ahead,’ I told her. ‘And it’s hard to keep walking when you can’t see the ground beneath your feet. But that’s what courage is. The will to keep walking in the darkness. To believe the end is just beyond your outstretched hand, rather than a million miles away. And while some might falter, some might fail, some might curl up like babes rather than walk on through that lonely night, you are not that girl.’

“‘Doesn’t matter.’ I took a swig of vodka, tucked my flask inside my greatcoat. ‘Measure yourself not by where others are, but where you used to be.’

This world won’t give you what you want just because you asked nicely, girl. Not respect. Not love. Not peace. You get what you earn. You eat what you kill.’

‘A life without books is a life not lived, Dior. There’s a magik like no other to be found in them. To open a book is to open a door—to another place, another time, another mind. And usually, mademoiselle, it’s a mind far sharper than your own.’

“‘I heard ye were dead, de León.’ “‘Heaven was full. And the devil was afraid to open the door.’

“Better to be a bastard than a fool.” Jean-François smiled. “You are not a bastard, de León. You are a cunt.” “Well. You are what you eat, vampire.” “Charming.” “My wife certainly thought so.”

“Before the Five, come unto one, “With sainted blade, ’neath virgin sun, “By sacred blood, or else by none; “This blackened veil shall be undone.”

The wise man learns more from his enemies than the fool from his friends, but even the fool can learn if his friends are willing to call him one. Surround yourself with folk who confront you. If you’re not being challenged, you’re not learning anything. If you’re the smartest man in the room, you’re in the wrong fucking room

We don’t get broken. We’re made broken. We are not whole alone. But if we’re blessed, if we’re brave, we might find those few whose edges fit against our own. Like pieces of the same puzzle, or shards of the same shattered blade. Those people who, in their own broken way, make our broken edge complete.’