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One day you’ll have to choose diplomacy or your spouse. I’m telling you now, it’s got to be your wife. Diplomacy doesn’t care if you live or die. Your wife does.”
Great. Come down to the witch forest, enter a deep dark cave. What could go wrong? Just once I would like to have an important meeting in a happy little meadow or an orchard.
“Ancient literature?” Ascanio inquired. “Did it have words like ‘dame’ and ‘stool pigeon’ in it?” “Do you make your deputies call you ‘copper’?” Derek asked. “Have you two ever thought of taking your show on the road?” Beau asked them.
FLYING WAS OVERRATED. Heights were very overrated. Flying with wings was probably less overrated when said wings belonged to you, but when you were dangling in a swing that bopped up and down every time the angel of death carrying you beat his wings, you reached a new level of appreciation for walking. Walking was amazing and awesome, and I really wanted to do it again as soon as possible.
When alone in a dark forest waiting for an audience with an evil god, the most prudent course of action is to be quiet and wait. “Prudent” wasn’t one of my favorite words. “Hello? I’ve come to borrow a cup of sugar. Anybody? Perhaps there is an old woman with a house made of candy who could help me?”
So far I had the god of evil and the god of terror on my side. My good-guy image was taking a serious beating. Maybe I should recruit some unicorns or kittens with rainbow powers to even us out.
“He gives me the creeps,” Teddy Jo growled. “You’re the nicest angel of death I know.” “Yeah, yeah. Get in the damn swing.”
“Who the hell is that?” I glanced in the direction he was pointing, where a man rode the air currents on blood-red wings. “That’s Christopher.” “Who?” Jim looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Christopher. He remembered how to fly.” Dali laughed. Jim stared at me. I had to go before he suffered an apoplexy and the rest of the Pack, with Dali at the head, came after me. “Bye!”
“What the hell was all that about?” Juke asked. “All I heard was a weird hissing language with some ‘fucks’ in it.”
“You worry me,” I told him. He pointed back at the Guild with his thumb. “Pot, kettle.”
That’s one of the privileges of being dead—and if the two of you don’t shut up, I will let you experience it for yourselves.”
“Before I forget,” Roman said. “Sienna said to tell you to beware . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Crocuta crocuta spelaea. Apparently it’s going to try to murder you. Don’t you want to eat some delicious cake before you die a horrible death?”
“And all the princes of the land would kiss the earth beneath her feet—that would be you—and should she fall, I will fall with her, for we are as one, and the despair would dry the spring of life within me. Do you understand? You are bound together. He can’t kill you. If he does, he will die with you.”
“If you remove adversity, you remove ingenuity and creativity with it. There is no need to strive to make something beautiful or better if it already is.”
did. You’re like a dedicated cat lady, but you collect killers instead of fluffy cats.”
But true love, the one that endures through time, love that is pure joy, love that nothing in this world can shatter, that kind of love is rare. The two people standing before me today have it. They fought for it, they endured for it, and they earned it. Tonight we are privileged to celebrate their love with them.”
