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Death is the beginning of Immortality. —MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE
February 2nd Nightmares end.
the good thing about the truth is it’s true, and there’s no arguing with the truth. You may not like it, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
want to be with Lena and I want to live and I want to go to the Cineplex and eat popcorn until I’m sick and drive too fast and get a ticket and be so in love with my girlfriend that I make a total fool out of myself every day for the rest of my life.”
“You were always stubborn, Ethan. But what you did this time ain’t right. I don’t know what in the Good Lord’s Myst’ry got inta you, but I’ve got a mind ta send you out front ta get me a switch.”
She was still twisting my ear, and I had to bend down because she was only half my height.
Everyone I loved was going to die.” “You don’t have ta tell me. I watched the whole thing, and I was wearin’ my good spectacles!” She sniffed. “And ta think, folks used ta say I was the mell-o-dramatic one!”
“Don’t you try changin’ the subject. This time you’ve made a bigger mess than a blind housepainter.”
“I think you ought ta let our little firecracker have some time ta herself.” He dropped his voice. “Or you may end up passin’ on a second time.”
“If I had known I’d have ta live with the five a those men, I’d have thought twice ’bout gettin’ married at all.”
There wasn’t enough chocolate in the world to make this better.
you’re going to start asking yourself why your aunt does anything, you’ll be busy for the rest of eternity.”
You need help, and that’s what books are for.”
And nobody’s any different from anyone else, not when you come right down to it.
“It’s not like that. I’m not saying he’s sitting here next to us or something.” But I was. Sitting next to them or something.
She has that watch a hers all tweaked up, like some kind a Ethan Wate–ometer.”
“It’s a cross. Or two sticks, dependin’ on how you look at it.”
“Not that.” Lena pointed. “The button.” “Yep. It’s a button, all right. Any way you slice it.”
One-Eyed Menace. There it was. Her death-defying, all-powerful wooden spoon of justice.
Between the tears I heard it. Just a whisper, but I heard it as clearly as if she had shouted my name. “My boy.”
There was always something to be afraid of, even if you hadn’t figured out exactly what it was yet.
“You have to move on. Trust me.” “Why? You never did.” He smiled sadly, staring past her into the fire. “That’s how I know.”
Berries piled inside a big piece of pastry crust that Link, before his Linkubus days, would have swallowed whole in one bite.
“I wouldn’t want to take your bird.” She had already given me the stone. It felt like I was taking too much. Plus, birds made me nervous. They were like old ladies but with sharper beaks.
’Course he can. There and back, there and back again. Only place that bird can’t go is underwater. And that’s only ’cause I never taught him to swim.”
Was it really so far-fetched to think that words had a way of shaping a person’s whole life?
“You’re the Gatekeeper.” There was a River Master and a Gatekeeper. Of course there was. There was also a snake man, a whiskey-drinking crow that could fly from the land of the living to the land of the dead, a river full of bodies, and a dragon dog. It was like waking up in the middle of a game of Dungeons & Dragons.
Amma was behind me, and she didn’t say a word. She’d been that way for a while now—since Ethan. The silence was as wrong as everything else. It was strange to not hear her banging around in her kitchen.
“How sure?” Link asked. “You’re not sure, Lena. Nothin’s sure, except death an’ taxes. And when they said it, I think they were talkin’ more about stayin’ dead, not comin’ back again.”
“You don’t throw away perfectly good cut-ler-ee. That’s a cryin’ shame.” “Mercy Lynne. They’re plastic spoons. Means you’re supposed ta throw ’em away.”
Link grinned at John and nodded. “Screw all that Incubus crap. That’s how you do it Mortal-style.”
“I would like to take this opportunity to thank the Jackson High Biology Department. Stay in school, kids.” He shoved the shears back into his jeans.
John walked over and slapped Link on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving my ass. Mortal-style.”
“My sister’s cat. An excellent idea. She does provide a certain level of intimidation that Boo lacks.” Boo barked, offended.
“I don’t know what I would have done—” “I’m okay.” Link puffed his chest out. “Thanks to me.” “It’s true,” John said. “My protégée saved our asses.” Link raised an eyebrow. “That better mean somethin’ good.” Uncle Macon cleared his throat and adjusted a cuff of his crisp white shirt. “It does indeed, Mr. Lincoln. It does indeed.”
“But,” Uncle M continued, “we owe Ethan a debt we will never be able to properly repay. I watched him give his life for us, and I don’t take that lightly.”
“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Maybe people could change—even the ones who made the wrong choices, if they tried hard enough to make them right.
“Grief makes people desperate,”
She wasn’t the Queen of the Underworld. She was an angry dog trapped in a kennel.
Nobody walks on water, not where I come from. Nobody except the guy in the picture frame in Sunday school class. Too bad Angelus wasn’t from Gatlin; he would’ve known that.
“They best say somethin’ about Amma’s pie. Or the Good Lord as my witness, I’ll go down there ta The Stars ’n’ Bars and give them a piece a my mind.”
Good Lord, I hope Amma’s not reading this from some cloud up on high. She’ll be sending lightning bolts down, left and right.”
“Where’s the part where Miss Amma leaves behind two of the sorriest, hungriest, saddest boys ever to inhabit Wate’s Landing?”
“We have to make a quick stop on the way.” “Is this gonna involve any Dark Casters? Do I need the shears?”
Link was so full of crap, he could pass for a toilet.
“Was that Wesley’s car I saw out front? Is he in here?” “I’m sorry. He’s not.” Link was probably scrunched down on the floor of the Beater, hiding from his mother.
“What you can do,” Mrs. Lincoln fussed, “is try to read this book a witchcraft and explain to me how we can allow our children to check this out a the public library.” I didn’t have to look to know what series she was referring to, but I just couldn’t help myself. I poked my head around the corner to see Link’s mom waving a copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in the air.
Link was still staring at the pie. “Bet it’s not good enough to be Amma’s worst pecan pie.” He missed Amma, too. I could tell. She had always been on him about one thing or another, but she loved Link.
Amma was home. Amma was with me. And Amma was gone.
