I'd been staring at the search term for at least five minutes. One
word. Necromancer.
Simon's walls were covered in what looked like pages ripped from a comic book, but when I squinted, I realized they were hand drawn. Some were black-and-white, but most were in full color,
everything from character sketches to splash panels to full pages, done in a style that wasn't quite manga, wasn't
quite comic book.
He rolled his eyes. "First, my Dad's Korean and my mom was Swedish. Second, I totally suck at math. I don't like cuckoo clocks or skiing or fancy chocolate either."
I sputtered a laugh. "I think that's Swiss.
It's because when we sneeze, our soul flies out our nose and if no one says 'bless you,' the devil can snatch it.
Kelley ArmstrongYou know children, always playing with the forces of darkness.
Kelley ArmstrongMots clés demon young-adult urban-fantasy necromancer
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He stood and inhaled, then walked a few more feet, stooped, and prodded a chunk of rabbit fur.
“I’m definitely thinking something with more body parts,” I said. “Like a head.”
He gave a snort of a laugh. “It’s probably around here somewhere, but I suppose you want the parts attached, too.
Mots clés funny
Tell her to be quiet, and she got louder. Tell her to stay back, and she pushed me into the line of fire. Tell her to watch for our pursuers, and she hovered at my shoulder instead. Open the door to listen, and she wanted to drag me back inside.
Ah. The beginning of a beautiful friendship.
With no chance to take off, I had to play my role, searching for the rendezvous spot, which gave me the excuse to look for an escape opportunity. Maybe a hole in the wall too small for Tori’s mom to follow me through or a precarious stack of boxes I could topple onto her head or an abandoned hammer I could brain her with. I’d never “brained” anyone in my life, but with Tori’s mom, I was willing to try.
Kelley ArmstrongMots clés funny
This is so cool,” I said as Dad walked away. “Have you met the tattoo artist? Is he hot?
“He’s a she,” Mom said.
“Is she hot? Cause I’m still young, you know. My sexual identity isn’t fully formed.
Got your text,” he said when I climbed out. “How much did it hurt?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Apparently, I can’t get a tattoo because I’m a witch.”
“I could have told them-” He stopped. “Oh, you said witch.”
“Ha-ha.
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