Night Shade Quotes

“Diana was the goddess of the hunt and of all newborn creatures. Women prayed to her for happiness in marriage and childbirth, but her strength was so great that even the warlike Amazons worshipped her.
No man was worthy of her love, until powerful Orion won her affection. She was about to marry him, but her twin brother, Apollo, was angered that she had fallen in love. One day, Apollo saw Orion in the sea with only his head above the water. Apollo tricked Diana by challenging her to hit the mark bobbing in the distant sea. Diana shot her arrow with deadly aim. Later, the waves rolled dead Orion to shore.
Lamenting her fatal blunder, Diana placed Orion in the starry sky. Every night, she would lift her torch in the dark to see her beloved. Her light gave comfort to all, and soon she became known as a goddess of the moon.
It was whispered that if a girl-childwas born in the wilderness, delivered by the great goddess Diana, she would be known for her fierce protection of the innocent.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“She dug through the clothes packed in the trunk until she found the blue halter top and black jeans she had been wearing the night Veto died. She wasn't sure why she had saved them, but she was glad she had, now. She was going to wear them tonight in honor of Veto.
She carried them back to her room, stood in front of the mirror over her dresser, and slipped on the gold earrings that had been a gift from Veto. Then she started to dress. She rubbed glitter lotion over her arms and painted black lines on her eyelids. She rolled on her mascara, then stood back.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“I want you to tattoo me."
"Tattoo? I don't know how."
"You draw," Jimena explained. "That's all you need to know to do a jailhouse tattoo. I'll tell you the rest."
An hour later the tattoo of a crescent moon and star was bleeding on Jimena's arm.
"It looks good," Catty said with pride.
"Yeah." Jimena stood in front of the mirror and admired Catty's work. Excitement ran through her when she looked at herself. She glanced at Catty and knew she was feeling the same. They stared at each other's reflections.
"You look... like a goddess," Catty said, smiling.
Jimena remembered she no longer had her gift. Could she even call herself a goddess now? With rising self-assurance, she knew it was her rightful title. The power was inside her.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“He clasped the amulet around her neck.
"It's only a symbol," she said in a drowsy kind of way. "Only a symbol of the power inside me."
"Then feel that power," Veto urged.
She glanced at him. It was too late.
But as she continued to stare into Veto's fading eyes something happened. She realized instinctively that the real power had always been inside her. It was something no one could steal from her. She could feel the energy building, pulsing through her like a jaguar in the night. Her gift of premonition and the amulet were only symbols. She understood now that Maggie had wanted her to realize this for herself; she had never stopped being a Daughter of the Moon. If Maggie had simply told her that she had the ability to stand against evil without using violence, or her gift, then she never would have found the self-confidence and faith that she felt rising in her now.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“And how do you plan on appeasing the spirits of the dead if you do go the land of the dead?"
Jimena looked at her strangely. Was she serious? "What do you mean?"
"You're going to their house. What do you have to offer them so they will let you leave?"
Jimena thought a long moment. What could the dead possibly want from her? And then she remembered her grandmother's oraciones for her grandfather. "My prayers."
"Prayers?" Jimena could sense the woman's disappointment. "I remember a time when a blood sacrifice was made. People slaughtered the pride of their herds."
"I don't have any cattle or sheep," Jimena offered. "I live in the city."
The woman snorted. "No one really believes in the mythical world anymore. Once people poured libations for the dead."
"Libations?"
"Milk and honey, mellow wine, and water sprinkled with glistening barley. Prayers? Well, I guess that is a modern equivalent. I suppose prayers will have to do.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“She glanced down at the triangle of three dots tattooed on the fleshy web between her index finger and thumb. The day she got jumped into Ninth Street, Veto had tattooed the dots into her skin using ink and a pin. Later, he had tattooed the teardrop under her right eye when she got out of Youth Authority Camp. The second teardrop was for her second stay in Youth Authority. She would have gone back a third time for firing a gun, if a lenient judge hadn't sentenced her to do community service work instead. She had fired the gun in frustration when she couldn't stop her homegirls from doing a throw-down. The cops had caught her, but she wouldn't turn rata. She was willing to go back to camp to protect her homegirls. That was the code. But the judge had seen something different in her eyes this time and let her off with community service.
Jimena had known about her destiny by then, and she had changed. It amazed her even now, if she thought about it. Who would have thought she was meant for something so important?”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“She had transferred to La Brea High School less than six months ago, and the guys there never did more than smile or ask her to dance. She could feel them looking at her when she walked down the hallways, but when she caught their glances, they looked away. Perhaps they saw the gangster in her eyes or in the curl of her lips. Veto had said she was like a jaguar; her show of teeth was a warning, not a smile. She was probably scaring the guys away without even knowing it.”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade

“Jimena sensed their fear. That brought a smile to her face. Her reputation was still so big that even tough enimigas wouldn't face her down.
She strutted past them, her heels snapping loudly on the sidewalk. She enjoyed the feel of their admiring eyes, their sideways glances and the wonder she saw on their faces. Jimena wasn't choloed out in khakis, a tight T, and long, boyfriend-borrowed Pendletons. She wore a slinky dress and ankle-breaking high-heels. The rain made the dress cling to her body, so they knew she wasn't strapping. No gun. Still, they were afraid to confront her.
This time she stopped for the red light, pausing to let the chicas know she didn't fear them. It felt good to be the toughest chola en el condado de Los Angeles. She was still down for Ninth Street, her old gang, but at age fifteen, already a veterana. A leyenda, her homegirls told her with pride. Jimena had been a real badass before she understood her destiny. She glanced at the scars and tattoos on her hand. What would the klika-girls do if they knew her true identity?”
― Lynne Ewing, Night Shade