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Karou remembered geothermal chambers in the lower labyrinth of the caves, if all was as it had been years ago.
“My fellow Americans, citizens of Earth . . .” Oh, to be able to say that, Citizens of Earth!
The personals ad Zuzana and Mik had composed for the Kirin in flight was something along the lines of: “Heroic sweetheart currently occupying smoking-hot maniac body in order to save the world. Would sacrifice everything for love, but hopefully won’t have to. I really deserve a happy ending.”
At the same moment that the image of Ziri’s discarded Kirin body made its debut on human airwaves—the same moment exactly—in Eretz, a Dominion blade . . . pierced him through the heart.
In the midst of everything that was going on and the great weight of the mission they were on, they were squished into a bathroom, hiding from a hotel clerk.
Arrived. Going in. *kiss/punch*.
“Would you still love me if I were a Japanese man?”
We just want to be able to kick ass, right?” “Well, definitely don’t phrase it that way. We’d probably just become highly skilled at kicking people in the ass. Don’t turn your back on them,” she intoned. “They never miss.”
From the palisade, billowing in the wind, hung a banner that had been white and was now fouled with blood and ash. She knew it at once. Its slogan was clear, even if the wolf-head emblem in its center was . . . concealed. Victory and Vengeance, it read, in the chimaera tongue.
And it was an easy choice. Life, first. You have to be alive, after all, in order to figure out everything else.
