Jay

“The Gray King’s back arched, and his mouth hung open, gasping in the icy thrall of shock; with both of his arms he pushed at Locke’s head, as though by prying the smaller man off him he could undo his wound, but Locke held fast, and in an impossibly calm voice he whispered, “Calo Sanza. My brother and my friend.”

Backward, the Gray King toppled, and Locke slid the knife out of his back just before he struck the deck. Locke fell on top of him. He raised the dagger once again and brought it down in the middle of the Gray King’s chest, just beneath his rib cage. Blood spurted and the Gray King flailed, moaning. Locke’s voice rose as he worked the knife farther in: “Galdo Sanza, my brother and my friend!”

With one last convulsive effort, the Gray King spat warm coppery blood into Locke’s face and grabbed at the dagger that transfixed his chest; Locke countered by bearing down with his useless left side, batting the Gray King’s hands away. Sobbing, Locke wrenched the dagger out of the Gray King’s chest, raised it with a wildly shaking right arm, and brought it down in the middle of the Gray King’s neck. He sawed at the windpipe until the neck was half-severed and great rivers of blood were flowing on the deck. The Gray King shuddered one last time and died, his wide white eyes still fixed on Locke’s.

“Bug,” Locke whispered. “His real name was Bertilion Gadek. My apprentice. My brother. And my friend.”

His strength failed, and he slid down atop the Gray King’s corpse.

“My friend.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

“He could be a butterfly dreaming he's a man."
"Well, he's not. He's a big fat man dreaming he's a big fat butterfly. What the hell am I supposed to do?"
There was another hesitation. "I'm not sure. You don't happen to have a large net handy, do you?"
"I want to hit him. I want to hit YOU, but I also want to hit him.”
― Derek Landy, Kingdom of the Wicked

“Someday, Locke Lamora,” he said, “someday, you’re going to fuck up so magnificently, so ambitiously, so overwhelmingly that the sky will light up and the moons will spin and the gods themselves will shit comets with glee. And I just hope I’m still around to see it.”
“Oh please,” said Locke. “It’ll never happen.”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora

“[..]...
"What does he look like?" Valkyrie asked.
"Black hair, pretty pale. Ugly scar on his face. Looks like a vamp."
"You should get back inside," Skulduggery said. "Lock the doors."
"You got it, Kemo sabe. I'll keep my crucifix close."
"Vampires aren't scared of a crucifix, Finbar."
"I don't plan to wave it at him, I plan to hit him with it. It's really heavy. I figure I can do some considerable damage to his head." He Stepped back and closed the door.”
― Derek Landy, Playing with Fire