• A Dance at the Slaughter House (Matthew Scudder #9) Out of Breath (Breathing #3)

    A long pause. It doesnt matter now.

    It was not her death to claim.It did not belong to the parents whose spirits lingered at her side, who might have been there all along, leading her toward this. Who had not left her, even with death separating them.

    Demon Seed

    No, it did not belong to them, either.She looked behind her. Toward the Second waiting beside Dorian.Tears slid down Asterins face. Of pride—pride and relief.

    Dreaming of You (The Gamblers of Craven's #2)

    Manon beckoned to Asterin with an iron-tipped hand.Snow crunched, and Manon whirled, angling to take the brunt of the attack.

    But her grandmother had not charged. Not at her.

    No, the Blackbeak Matron sprinted for her wyvern. Fleeing.The footsteps began once more just as she turned the healer over. As she swallowed the scream that tried to shatter out of her.

    Light brown cheeks turned to hollowed husks, eyes stained purple beneath, lips pale and cracked. A simple healers gown that had likely fit her that morning now hung loose, her slim form now emaciated, as if something had sucked the life from her—She knew that face, gaunt as it was. Knew the golden-brown hair, nearly the twin to her own. The healer from the Womb, the very one shed comforted only hours earlier—

    White Trash Beautiful (White Trash Trilogy #1)

    Yrenes fingers shook as she fumbled for a pulse, the skin leathery and dry.Nothing. And her magic … There was no life for it to swirl toward. No life at all.

    The footsteps on the other side of the stack neared. Yrene stood on trembling knees, taking a steadying breath as she forced herself to walk again. Forced herself to leave that dead healer in the dark. Forced herself to lift her bag as if nothing had happened, as if showing the satchel to someone ahead.But with the angle of the stacks—the person didnt know that.

    Just finishing up my reading for the night, she called to her invisible salvation ahead. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Silba that her voice held steady and merry. Cook is expecting me for a last cup of tea. Want to join?Making it seem like someone was expecting her: another trick shed picked up.

    Yrene cleared five more steps before she realized whoever it was had again halted.Yrene dashed the last few feet to the hallway, spotted a cluster of acolytes just emerging from another haze of stacks, and hurtled flat out toward them.