He was like tides, rolling in and out with an endless calm, with grace, with beauty.

He shoved at me, tried to take control, but I was nothing if not made of stubborn.

Stone and blocks, like butter and bread.

Zayvion and I had an agreement that we were going to give this relationship everything we could. And that included trust, faith, and honesty. Not a single one of which was among my strong points.

I doubt she likes the idea of seeing him put back in a cage.” “Maybe not,” he said. “But she knows that the Authority are the only people who might be able to help him.” “Or kill him,” I said. “That too. What is life without risk?” “Long?” Terric laughed, a sort of high whooping that made me – and Zayvion, much to my surprise – smile. Contagious. For all he had a serious exterior, Terric was the guy you’d want to sit next to at a funny movie, just to hear him laugh.

I was now officially Beckstrom the storm rod. And I hated it.

Still, I held my right hand ready to cast a spell in case arts-and-craft hour suddenly ended and they went back to Killing 101.

The cute was powerful with this one.

For a brief, weird minute I felt like Dorothy in Oz, walking down the street with Terric the doubtful, Shame the brainless, and heartless Zay.

The last void stone I’d worn was a beautiful black stone caught in vines of copper and silver. It looked like a necklace, a piece of art, really. This thing was spud-ugly.