The Unkindest Tide (October Daye, #13)

by Seanan McGuire

“Some people will tell you Halloween is every day if you have the right attitude,” she said, flicking her fingers. The door slammed shut.

I love the sea witch!

“Foolishness and bravery look a lot alike if you’re not paying close enough attention,”

“There’s no one in this world you can trust all the time. Not even the people you love, not even the people who love you.”

The child wrinkled their nose. “You didn’t answer my question.” “I’m the motherfucking sea witch. I don’t have to answer your question.” The child’s eyes widened. “You said a swear.” “Again, sea witch. I’m allowed.” The child nodded, apparently satisfied, before turning and wandering off down the beach.

I suppose forgiveness is the thief in the afternoon sometimes, stealing your anger away when you’re not paying attention,”

Mathias scowled at his cider. “I suddenly find myself wishing I shared my colleague’s lack of caution where alcohol is concerned.” “A drink a day keeps the crushing weight of the universe away,” said Liz, with something that actually resembled good cheer.