Blood Rites (The Dresden Files, #6)

by Jim Butcher

“So what’s love look like?” “You can have everything in the world, but if you don’t have love, none of it means crap,” he said promptly. “Love is patient. Love is kind. Love always forgives, trusts, supports, and endures. Love never fails. When every star in the heavens grows cold, and when silence lies once more on the face of the deep, three things will endure: faith, hope, and love.” “And the greatest of these is love,” I finished. “That’s from the Bible.” “First Corinthians, chapter thirteen,” Thomas confirmed. “I paraphrased. Father makes all of us memorize that passage.

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The Hunger hissed more words at Thomas. “What is it saying?” I asked. “It’s telling him to give up. That there’s no point in fighting anymore. That it will never leave him in peace.” “Is it true?” “Perhaps,” she said. “But he’s fighting anyway,” I said. “Yes.” Her eyes focused on mine, sad and proud. “It may destroy him, but he will not surrender himself to it. He is of my blood.”

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Murphy’s mom was taller than her daughter, but she had that kind of matronly plumpness that comes with age, pasta, and a comfortable life.

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Mother Murphy sighed. “Karrin, you’re the oldest child. She’s the youngest. All parents get a little more relaxed along the way.”

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