Chimes at Midnight (October Daye, #7)

by Seanan McGuire

The Luidaeg is fond of human profanity, I think because it tends to shock the purebloods.

May was cutting pictures out of a magazine. Jazz was armed with a hot glue gun, a plaster unicorn head, and a box of artificial gems in various colors and sizes. I stopped in the doorway. “Do I want to know?” “It helps us stay calm,”

“Remember when our biggest problem was ‘who turned the laundry pink’?” asked May. Then she sighed. “Yeah. Me neither.”

Instead, she had pliant-looking dragonfly wings, two on each side, which trailed down to her knees in a wash of translucent rainbow color. They twitched as she walked, making minute corrections in her balance and leaving a thin haze of red and copper glitter in the air. She didn’t have a pixie problem. She just had herself.

librarianship is a form of heroism. It’s just not as flashy as swords and dragons.”

I am the sea witch. I am the tide you fear and the turning you can’t deny. I am the sound of the waves running over your bones on the beach, little man, and I am not amused at finding you on my doorstep.”

“Then it’s a good thing we have magical Princess-finding bugs to help us, isn’t it?” I paused. “I can’t believe I just said those words, in that order, like they meant something. I need coffee.”

“Why am I dating you again?” “Leather pants,” he deadpanned. I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

Each of her ears had been pierced three times, something that was easy to notice, since we were almost the same height. Her eyes were two different colors, one brown, one so blue it was almost disconcerting, and her hair was chestnut brown, worn long. Her bangs overhung her eyes, and her skin was even paler than mine.

Her hair was the color of blackberries, so black it was virtually purple, with strange, glossy undertones. Her eyes stayed mismatched, but instead of brown and blue, they were polished pyrite and shifting mercury silver.

Me, October “I was a fish for fourteen years” Daye, advocating that someone go hide with the mermaids. I guess some traumas get better with time.

She knocked three times when she reached her bedroom door—she almost always did that, and I never knew why—before

My name—my given name—is Antigone. I was born in Scotland. We called it ‘Albany’ at the time.

Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats.”

Me, I sort of am invincible, as long as you’re not coming at me with dynamite and blasting caps.

“When you decide it’s time to up the ante on getting into deep shit, you don’t mess around, do you? You’re just like, hey, what’s the worst that can happen? That’s the worst that can happen? Great. Let’s do that.”

“Quentin. You’re my squire. You’ve followed me into Blind Michael’s lands. You’ve survived being shot, being transported to Annwn, and riding in a car with May. I’ve overseen your education gladly, and I’ve been perpetually amazed by the man you’re growing up to be. You can do this. And if you refuse to even try, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Luidaeg, you are a fabulous monster, and an even better bitch,”

This is how it is with me and exercise: I have to exert myself, I get winded, I complain about getting winded, I swear I’m going to get into shape, I get distracted, and it never happens.

Sweetheart, you’re stuck with me until you decide not to be.” “At this point, if your foul attitude and utter lack of manners were going to drive me away, they would have done so already.”

“You know it’s a good plan when it gets everyone to ask if I’m crazy,”

“A knight of the land Courts asking a Duchess of the Undersea to save a King of Cats,” said Dianda, almost thoughtfully. “You live your life in a stew of myths, don’t you?”

“You are covered in blood,” Tybalt said again, stressing the words harder this time. “It makes me tense.”

Being smiled at by a bloody, too-calm woman in the middle of a pitched battle was probably a little disconcerting.