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“There’s at least one romance writer who never goes to conventions, because she’s actually an eight-foot-tall grandfather.”
One little girl had red bows tied around the necks of her snakes.
My animal hindbrain began a vigorous argument with the rest of my mind over the virtues of running vs. asking if I could perform a physical examination.
“They’re humans,” said one of the children—a little boy in a Pokémon T-shirt. Some things are apparently universal.
One more thing to talk about with the therapist I didn’t have.
Shelby stuck her tongue out at the little girl with the bows on her snakes. The girl squealed with glee. Shelby smirked. “Kids are kids,” she said. “All the rest is just details.”
“You’re pretty good about hiding the fact that you want to study me most of the time, Alex, and I appreciate that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know,” said Dee, sounding wearily amused.
(Australia. The only continent designed with a difficulty rating of “ha ha fuck you no.”)
“My eyes are already burning,” said Shelby. “I have more eyes than you do,” countered Dee, and took a piece of onion.
Hair is so much fun. You can’t style snakes. They pretty much style themselves, and you just get to learn to live with it.”
It’s never fun to be reminded that humans aren’t necessarily the apex predators on this planet.
“You still want me to come to work?” “Dee, I knew you were a gorgon when I hired you,
I worked in animal conservation in Queensland. Giant lizards that want to eat me are familiar enough to be almost comforting.”
she had formed a cocoon, with only the crown of her head proving that there was a woman inside the mass of bedclothes.
“Fuck off,” she mumbled sleepily. It says something about me that I found that endearing.
“Somebody just tried to kill us.” “Yeah, they did.” I staggered to my feet, offering her my hand. “Want to go find out who it was, and maybe kick their ass?” “I thought you’d never ask.”
I’m a big girl; you didn’t drag me into anything I didn’t force you to allow me to be a part of.”
She’s putting the pieces of herself back into the order they’re supposed to be in,
“I’m going to kill you.” “You look fine.” “I’m quite serious. I’m going to murder you. I’m going to murder you to death. And then, after I’ve finished doing that, I’m going to kill you again, just to be sure you got the point.”
It was a safety model that required a key to open from the outside as a precaution against idiots trying to sneak into the alligator enclosure, but which was always unlocked on the inside, in case one of those idiots actually managed it.
“Nothing good has ever come from splitting the party.” —Thomas Price
that I was the first person in the history of my family to be paranoid for no good reason.
“What happened?” “I barely believe it, and I’m the one who got stabbed,”
“Sounds like you’ve really thought this through.” “I think most things through, even when it might be better not to.”
I know you can track by smell. You’ve tracked me through five miles of dense forest because you thought it was time for dinner. Now where is Shelby?”
as a wise man once said, life finds a way.
Snakes have a distinctive smell, dry and ancient, like the wrappings of a mummy or the rot that sleeps at the heart of a rainforest.
“Cowards.” “Better a live coward than a dead hero,” said Dee.
She sighed. It was an old, tired sound, like wind blowing over bones.
“You abandoned the old barn years ago, and you didn’t take me there first?” I asked. “You people need to watch more horror movies.
“Age isn’t everything,” I said. “You should meet my little sisters.”
So you can feel powerful when you’re the only damn things in the world who don’t have an advantage past ‘thumbs’?
either a mating dance or a precursor to bloody combat.
Sarah wasn’t exactly “schooling” anyone at Scrabble, since half the words she used were made up, but she had fun, and she was getting better at keeping up with the conversation.
They enjoy the company of humans, if only because humans are so much fun to mess with.
Cheese and cake for everyone who’s come with me into this new and exciting stretch of the family history.
especially my editor, Sheila Gilbert, and my “I’m sorry I called again but do you remember where I left my brain,” Joshua Starr.
