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Stolen
by Kelley Armstrong


p.2-3 Quiona sighed, the sound fluttering like a breeze through his mind. "What do you want me to do?"
     "Which way is out?" he asked.
     More silence. More shouts.
     "This way," she said.
     He knew which way she meant, though he couldn't see her. An ayami had presence and substance but no form, an idea impossible to explain to anyone who wasn't a shaman and as easy for a shaman to understand as the concept of water or sky.

p.19 Like most animals, we spent a large part of our lives engaged in the three Fs of basic survival: feeding, fighting, and ... reproduction.

p.121 A guitar twanged from the far-off radio. Country music. Damn. They'd resorted to torture already.

p.269 "Clayton." Cassandra's voice, butter-smooth.
     He didn't answer.
     "A grunt of greeting would suffice," she murmured.
     "That would imply a welcome. Don't you need to be invited into a room?"
     "Sorry. Another myth shot to hell."
     "Feel free to follow it."

p.319 "like a kitten caught in the rain"

p.402 Paige and Kenneth would act as telepathic liaisons between the two groups, allowing us to communicate without two-way radios or cell phones. Telepathic liaisons. The phrase slid so easily from my mental tongue. Scary, really. Binding spells, sorcery, astral projection, telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation--did I ever expect to hear those words outside of an X-Files episode? Now I was standing in a forest grove with a witch, a half-demon, a vampire, and a shaman, planning to put an end to a nefarious plot to usurp our powers and alter the path of humankind. Talk about your conspiracy theories.

p.407-408 "Elena, did you know that one of the major accusations against witches during the Inquisition was that they caused impotence?"
     "Ummm, no," I said.
     "Not just psychological impotence either," Paige said. "Men accused witches of literally removing their penises. They thought we collected them in little boxes where they wriggled around and ate oats and corn. There's even this story in the Malleus Maleficarum about a guy who went to a witch to ask for his penis back. She told him to climb a tree, where he'd find some in a bird's nest. He did and, of course, tried to take the biggest, but the witch said he couldn't have that one because it belonged to the parish priest."