Peter Hale has intimate knowledge of two very opposing concepts, which are truly one and the same - having your throat ripped out and falling in love.
Spilling the insides out, rushing forth to consume everything he knows, ensnaring the senses from the brain-stem to the nerve endings, till all he can smell and touch and taste is fire and agony.
And it’s going to be the death of him, one way or the other. Like claws in his jugular, there is no good way this can end. And its going to end between one breath and the next, mere seconds of pain without pleasure or triumph.
He’s powerless to stop either one.
Manda Marie inspired this lovely new post on my blog!
Just so everyone is aware:
We Must Be Killers is still happening. It has not been forgotten amongst me smacking metal around and working towards the new moon MM launch.
Its just a really fucking long chapter full of awesome things. So just bear with me, its gonna be A Good.
Names hold a great deal of power, and its a theme I’ve noticed gets explored in a great deal of my novels.
In Sigil, demons only give their full names to those they hold closest, for only this has the power to summon them over all else. Names appear during adulthood as a sigil, which is their lock and their key, marking their greatest strength and their greatest weakness all at once.
In Purga, names are both a source of comedy and terror. You have the supernatural telling boogey man stories of those who hunt them.
Lily is known as the Destroyer, for her blind rage and not giving a single fuck for collateral damage, and later the Judge much further down the road.
Finn has a great many names, for you never really know which side of him is true and which is a front. He’s the Bloodhound, the Bounty Hunter, and later you learn his real first name. But you never know his, last because you never know his family. Finn is the most forthcoming and secretive character I’ve ever written.
Zell’s last name is both a badge of honor and pity party in one, and so he doesn’t give it out except to those who will never guess its origin. He’ll never receive a nickname or a calling card, he’s too damn good to let that which he hunts and studies know what he can truly do.
Problems are like dishes.
You can choose to ignore them all you like, but they will grow into a horrible monster of grotesqueness that will eventually make it impossible to do anything in life because every dish is in the sink and taking over your counters and there is now where to cook and you haven’t eaten right in ages because you have no dishes. Now you’re exhausted, depressed, and have no energy to tackle this mountain of horrifying hell you have created.
It may seem endless, because dishes will always happen, but that’s life, and you have to take it for what it is.
Do your dishes. Put on some badass music, and do it.
You will feel better.
One dish at a time.