Цитаты из книги Our Dark Duet

At first it thinks she is another toy to wind up and release another match to strike but she is already lit so full of grief and anger of guilt and fear Who deserves to pay? it asks her heart and her heart answers everyone every one and it knows she is like it a thing of limitless potential -- she will burn like a sun among stars she will make it solid she will make it real she will -- (Kate?) (Kate!) and then -- somehow -- she pulls away it lets her go and it does not she tears free, and she does`n--

"Sight is an important thing, August. Without it, our minds invent, and the things they invent are almost always worse than the truth. It`s important that they see us. See you. It`s important that they know you`re on their side." August frowned. "The first thing they see me do is kill." Henry nodded. "That`s why the nextthing you do matters so much. And the next, and the next. You`re not human, August, and you never will be. But you`re not a monster, either. Why do you think I chose you to lead the FTF?" "Because I killed Leo?" he ventured darkly. A shadow crossed Henry`s face. "Because it haunts you." He tapped August`s chest, right over the heart. "Because you care."

"We need to protect our own." "We need to protect everyone." "We`re buying time with lives." "Have we gained any ground?" "August. What do you think?" He blinked, coming back to himself. What did he think? He thought he would hather be reading, rather be fighting, rather be doing anything than standing here listening to me nand women talk about human lives as if they were nothing but numbers, odds, watching them reduce flesh and blood to marks on paper, Xs on a map. He fought the urge to say exactly that, searching instead for other truths. "Monsters," he said slowly, "all want the same thing: to feed. They are united by that common goal, while you are all divided by your morals, and your pride. What do I think? I think that if you cannot come together, you cannot win."

Back at her third boarding school, Kate had read a book about serial killers. According to the first chapter, most isolated acts were crimes of passion, but those who killed repeatedly did it because they were addicted to the high. Kate had always wondered if there was more to it than that -- if those people were also trying to escape the low, some hollow, unfulfilling aspect of their life. It made her wonder what kind of job those people might have had, to need such violent hobbies. Now she knew. "Welcome to the Coffee Bean," she said with all the false cheer she could muster. "What can I get started for you?"

"Did you have a good day?" asked August, and Soro flashed him the ghost of a smile, so faint others probably wouldn`t even see it, so faint August himself might have missed it if he hadn`t spent so long learning how to put his own emotions on display just so humans would see. "You and your strange questions," they mused. "I ended seven lives. Does that count as good?" "Only if they deserved to die." A slight crease formed in Soro`s brow. "Of course they did." There was no waver, no doubt, and as August stared at Soro`s reflection in the steel door, he couldn`t help but wonder if their catalyst had anything to do with their resolve. Like all Sunai, they had been born from tragedy, but unlike tha massacre that brought August forth, Soro`s had been more... voluntary.

August straightened and brought the violin to rest beneath his chin. He stared out at the audience, a sea of faces all marked by emotions so intence they made him realize how his own attempts had paled. He`d spent four years trying to learn -- to mimic -- these human expressions, as if that would make him human. That was all he`d wanted, and he`d wanted it so much he would have given anything, would have sold his very soul. He`d done everything he coul, even starved himself to the edge -- and gone over. But August could never be human. He knew that now. It wasn`t about<,i>what he was, but why, his purpose, his part. They all had parts to play. And this was his. August set his bow against the strings and drew the first note.

"Oh, look at the time," she said dryly. "Malcom`s going to get jealous." "Thanks for your concern," he said, "but I assure you, our relationship is stable enough to allow time with friends. Friends. The word glanced off her ribs, hard enough to let her winded. Because she knew a secret: there were two kinds of monsters, the kinds the kind that hunted the streets and the kind that lived in your head. She could fight the first, but the second was more dangerous. It was always, always, always a step ahead. It didn`t have theeth or claws, didn`t feed on flesh or blood or hears. It simply reminded you of what happened when you let people in.