He wiped away the tears, tenderly, and I forgot to weep as he told me silently everything I always wanted to hear.

Lilith Saintcrow

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Would I be as strong as that once I did that thing Christophe was talking about? Blooming? Would I smell like a bakery item? Or was that just him? Did he use pie filling for cologne?

Lilith Saintcrow

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The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.

Lilith Saintcrow

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I thought I'd pay you a visit, my dear. Since you're so interesting."

My mouth shifted into high gear, leaving my brain behind. "You know, you're the second guy in a few days to call me that. You should be more creative.

Lilith Saintcrow

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I went to the entrance to the restroom, where the hallway did a sharp bend so nobody could peek into the girls' pee-palace.

Lilith Saintcrow

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His eyebrows drew together. He was perilously close to unibrow; I guess nobody had held him down and administered a good plucking to the caterpillar climbing across his forehead.

Lilith Saintcrow

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And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.

Lilith Saintcrow

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It was the same old crap-someone thinking they can push you around because you're young, because you're helpless. You had to just sit there and take it because you were under a certain number, because you weren't a real person yet; you could be picked up and dropped like a toy, left behind or thrown away-

Lilith Saintcrow

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Boys always get the best eyelashes; it's like some kind of cosmic law. And half-breed kids get some kind of extra help there from genetics, too.

Lilith Saintcrow

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His shoulder bumped mine again. "Can I ask you something?"

I didn't answer. He was going to ask me anyway. People don't say that if they don't want to pry something out of you.

Lilith Saintcrow

Mots clés strange-angels

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