Ghostly Echoes Quotes

“It is the ugliest aspect of human nature that we fear what is most different from ourselves with such violent contempt.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“There is something humbling about knowing that an entity capable of moving mountains and reshaping continents still takes the time to tend to the smallest patch of dirt. Little things matter. Footsteps matter.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“I don’t need to understand someone to respect them.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Kindness is an act of bravery, I think, just as hatred is an act of fear.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“The real powers at play never take center stage. Don't follow the marionette, follow the strings.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“My brick. My house. My whole wide world.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Bertram!” Jackaby patted him on the arm affably as he bustled past him into the front hall. “It’s been ages, how are the kids?” “I remain unmarried, Mr. Jackaby, and I’m afraid you can’t be seen just now.” “Nonsense. Miss Rook, can you see me?” “Certainly, sir.” “Well, there you have it. You must have your eyes checked, Bertram. Now”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“So you’re a freak, too, huh?” sneered the big man. I couldn’t see Jackaby’s face, but I could almost hear the broad grin in his answer. “I’m not generally one for titles, but that is one I’ll embrace with pride.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“It looked like precisely the sort of place where a living body might go if it wanted to become a dead one.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“There are lots of people out there who are terribly hateful. She could avoid a whole lot of trouble and dress and act as they want her to, but she chooses to be herself. That's brave. Also - the last time we met she stopped Jackaby from hurting the men who hurt her. They might have killed her. Kindness is an act of bravery. I think, just as hatred is an act of fear. I'm sure can appreciate that not all strength is muscle, Mr. Finstern. She has a strong spirit, and I believe she is brave about the way she chooses to use it.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“I have great respect for the medical profession, Miss Rook,” he said soberly, “but it is not for doctors to tell us who we are.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“You keep trying - and in the end I think maybe that's the only right thing anybody can do.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Kindness is an act of bravery, I think, just as hatred is an act of fear. I’m”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“How do you know if you’re doing the right thing?” she asked. “I keep trying, but sometimes I feel as though I’ve done nothing but the wrong thing all my life.” “I’m sure that isn’t true,” I said. “You keep trying—and in the end I think maybe that’s the only right thing anybody can do.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“This city is alive. It has a soul, and that soul is a glorious mess of beliefs and cultures all swirling together into something precious and strange and new.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“A woman from the Hunan Province told it to me,” said Charon. “Once upon a time a stranger came to a remote village with an elephant. Everyone got excited, including three blind men who didn’t know what an elephant was. They decided to find out for themselves. “The first man approached the elephant near its head. He reached his hand out and felt the leathery ear. The second man approached from behind and brushed the elephant’s bristly tail. The third came at it from the side and stroked its wide midsection. “ ‘What a strange creature an elephant is,’ the first man said. ‘So flat and thin, like wash hung from the line.’ “ ‘What are you talking about?’ said the second man. ‘That animal was hairy and coarse, like the bristles on a stiff broom.’ “ ‘You are both wrong!’ said the third. ‘The beast was as broad and sturdy as a wall.’ They three men argued and argued, but they never could come to an agreement.” Charon”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Detective work is neither a happy nor a satisfying business, Miss Rook,” said Jackaby, settling in as the amber buildings sailed past our window. “Marlowe will understand.” “I don’t understand at all.” Commissioner Marlowe kept his voice low and even as we sat across from him the following morning.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Good things come to those who bring them along in the first place.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Anything . . . supernatural?” I asked.

“No. Yes.” Jackaby rubbed his eyes. “Everything. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling . . .”

“What?” I said.

“Ha!” He shook his head and spun in place, marveling at the dark, dusty cobwebs hanging over us. “It’s been scrubbed clean, every inch.”

I looked around. “This might be why you and Jenny rarely see eye to eye about housekeeping,” I said.

“Not scrubbed clean of dust or droppings,” he said. “There are plenty of those, of course.” I decided not to look too closely for confirmation about the droppings. “Scrubbed clean of magical residue. I can’t pick out any unique otherworldly auras in this space.”

“Couldn’t that just mean that this place doesn’t have any?”

“Hardly. When you were young, did you ever spill red wine on your parents’ carpet?”

I blinked. “Er—yes? I knocked a bottle of merlot off of the table once.”

“And what did your mother do to clean it up?”

“Nothing. My mother never did the cleaning. She always had a maid handle that sort of thing.”

“Precisely—white vinegar! Nothing better for a stain. Except that the carpet is never quite like it used to be, is it? Even if you can’t see the red anymore, there’s always something about that spot. It’s a little too clean for the rest of the rug, and it keeps that lingering vinegar smell, right? Now a healthy suspension of sodium bicarbonate might help with that, but there’s always something left behind.”

“You know a lot about cleaning carpets for someone whose floor looks like a topical map of the East Indies.”

“I know the Viennese waltz, too, but I don’t waste my time doing it every day. Focus, Rook. ”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“can see willful obfuscation spread over you like marmalade on toast. I do not care for marmalade, madam, and I care less for secrets.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“You didn’t make me,” Jenny said gently. “I made myself, and I will continue to make myself forever after. What you did to me? That made you. It made you a murderer and it made you a monster. They buried the girl you killed, Morwen. I’m the spirit you couldn’t kill. You have no power over me.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“He flashed a winning smile and I saw that he was missing a canine on one side. He caught my gaze and closed his lips self-consciously. "Never mind about that," he said.

His tongue brushed over the gap. "I ate something that disagreed with me."

"Eating something that disagreed with you dislodged a tooth?" I asked.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“The curtain behind the counter whipped aside and a woman emerged dressed in flowing purple robes, a silk headscarf, and a lace shawl. She wore heavy makeup, her eyelids smoky blue and her eyes framed by thick black lashes. As she surveyed us, she adjusted a bronze tiara just above her hairline. It was strung with delicate dangling chains that swayed hypnotically across her forehead.

"Greetings weary travellers," she said. "I sense that you - "

"Nope," Jackaby said and pushed passed up back out of the shop.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“I'm the spirit you couldn't kill. You have no power over me.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“She smiled at me and then cringed. “Oh, Abigail, your face!”

I reached a hand up and felt the cut. It was long and tender, but it wasn’t deep. Morwen had struck a line straight across the middle of my existing scar. Each investigation I pursued with Jackaby seemed to leave me with larger and more visible injuries. At this rate, I would be escalating to decapitation by our sixth or seventh case if I wasn’t careful. “I’ll live,” I said. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is. Really.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“I remember every detail of it, you insignificant cow,” Morwen panted, affecting a crooked grin that failed to convey the same confidence it had before. “You screamed. You cried and blubbered like a baby before you died.”

“It won’t work,” said Jenny. “You can’t rile me anymore.”

“No? You should have seen your handsome Howard Carson after our vamp got through with him,” Morwen went on. For all her venom, she looked as though she might pass out at any moment. The trip through the wall had left several gashes along her arms, and her eyes appeared to be having difficulty focusing. “You could barely recognize his butchered corpse in the end,” she hissed. “We pitched what was left into the fire like greasy table scraps.”

Jenny did not rise to the bait. She only drifted slowly to a stop, looming over Morwen. Morwen gripped her dark dagger so tightly her knuckles whitened. She lashed out wildly at the specter, but the blade met nothing more substantial than moonlight. The effort cost the nixie her balance, and she collapsed again onto the carpet.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?” said Jenny calmly. “Not being able to make contact.” She reached down and easily plucked the blade out of Morwen’s grasp. She shifted the weapon from one hand to the other, regarding the dark metal curiously. The solidity of the thing sat at odds with her translucent fingers.

Morwen pushed herself up with great difficulty, swaying to an unsteady slouch on one knee. The fight had left the nixie, but not her fury. Her dress was torn and she had plaster ground into her hair. Her voice was hollow. “Just get it over with.”

“It is over,” said Jenny. She dropped the blade onto the carpet behind her with a soft thump.

Morwen narrowed her eyes. “Don’t waste your pity on me, ghost,” she spat.

“I won’t,” said Jenny. “Nor any fear nor fury. I’m done with you, Morwen. My friends, however . . . are not. Mr. Jackaby?”

Jackaby stepped forward. He unwound the chain from his hand as he moved around toward Morwen.

“Done with me?” Morwen spat. “You only exist because of me, ghost! You’re nothing but a ripple in my wake, you worthless trash. I made you!”

“You didn’t make me,” Jenny said gently. “I made myself, and I will continue to make myself forever after. What you did to me? That made you. It made you a murderer and it made you a monster. They buried the girl you killed, Morwen. I’m the spirit you couldn’t kill. You have no power over me.”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes

“Jackaby,” said Marlowe.

“Marlowe,” said Jackaby. “Good morning, Mayor Spade.”

Spade had doffed his jacket. It was draped over the back of his chair, and a coffee brown bow tie hung undone over his beige waistcoat. He had a full beard and a perfectly bald dome, and he wore a thick pair of spectacles. Spade was not an intimidating figure at his best, and today he looked like he was several rounds into a boxing match he had no aspirations of winning. He had seemed more vibrant the first time we met, and that had been at a funeral.

“I haven’t been up here in years,” continued Jackaby. “You’ve done something with the front garden, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Spade. “We’ve let it grow back. Mary still hasn’t forgiven you.”

“Is that why she’s been avoiding me? Your eyebrows have filled in nicely, by the way, and you can tell your wife the roses look healthier than ever. I’m sure being rid of that nest of pesky brownies did wonders for the roots. I understand a little ash is good for the soil, too.”

“I never saw any brownies, but there was certainly plenty of ash to go around,” Spade mumbled. “That fire spread so quickly we’re lucky we managed to snuff it out at all.”

“You should try blowing up a dragon some time,” I said. “No, scratch that. That went terribly. I don’t recommend it.”

“Impressive blast radius, though,” Jackaby confirmed.

Mayor Spade looked from me to my employer and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Good lord, one of you was quite enough. You had to recruit?”
― William Ritter, Ghostly Echoes