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“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” —The Tempest, William Shakespeare
Emotions painted the blood. Happiness. Anger. Sorrow. Lust. Each gave off its own energy.
Humans were not good at taming their feelings. They felt everything so rudely, right out in the open, with no awareness of how their reactions might affect those with finer senses.
“What do you think I’m doing?” I snarled. “I’m saving the fucking fox!”
“And the day you save me on a battlefield, I’ll put on a dress and dance a fucking jig.”
“I can’t help it if he doesn’t want to live.”
You can own your fantasies with me, Little Osha. There is nothing in this realm or the next that I won’t give to you if you desire it. All you ever need do is ask.
“Pick up your fucking feet, Your Highness,”
“Because, no matter what.…” Lorreth said under his breath. “A wolf never becomes a leech,” the vampire finished.
“Then tell me, Joshin. You filled me with enough venom to take down three horses… but do you scent any fear on me? Do you think I am afraid to face my demons? I’ve faced them before. I know them all by name. I’ve conquered them and bent them to my will more times than the sun has risen over Yvelia in my lifetime. I’ll face your nightmares if I have to, and I will still be the most frightening thing prowling around in the dark.”
“Do you ever wake up sometimes… and think… ‘Gods, wouldn’t it be nice if I hadn’t just gone toe-to-toe with a scorpion demon from hell?’” Carrion croaked.
Her fire keeps others warm in the cold dark. It is her strength, not her weakness. Being around her reminds you that you’re alive.”
Hearing him speak this way? To me? Having him love me like this? It healed me. I wouldn’t have been able to let anyone else do it. The intensity of the emotions I experienced whenever I was with him would have terrified the hell out of me. I would have run.
I had been born into the light, but my salvation had been waiting for me in the dark.
“It’s true,” Carrion said. “She was as feral as a hellcat. She would slink through any open window and take a nap when she could.”
“IT’S CALLED BRIMSTONE. It isn’t like our blood, exactly. It is what keeps a fire sprite alive, though,” Lorreth said.
Consider a sixth. Only the golden-toothed wolf can be trusted.
He did have me, didn’t he? He was the anchor that kept me from drifting away. Even here, in this horrible place, he hadn’t left my side.
“It feels like trying to make sand flow backward in an hourglass. It feels like being surrounded by people and being the only one who can’t find the air in the room. It’s drowning on dry land. It’s the hollow ache of something that you know, from that moment on, will always be missing. It is a pain so acute and incurable that poets, pirates, and politicians alike die from it. And it never ends.”

