Maybe If I Didn't Say Anything About

Married Pixy, I Told Myself, Forcing My Eyes Back To The Shelf Of Ceramic Animals. Fifty-four Kids. Beautiful Wife, Sweet As Sugar, Who Would Kill Me In My Sleep While Apologizing For It.

Jenks Made A Move To Follow, Probably Forgetting He Didn’t Have Wings Anymore. He Leaned Forward And Fell To The Floor, Face First. “jenks!” I Shouted When He Hit With A Dull Smack And Started Swearing.

You Need A New Hobby, Rachel. Something Other Than Nasty Little Men With Visions Of World Domination.

Who’s Going To Keep Them From Wiping Us Out Species By Species? Not Me. We Aren’t Prepared For A New Demographic Of Magic-using Humans Who Are Sadistic, Power Hungry, Don’t Like Inderlanders, And See Genocide As An Acceptable Form Of Communication.

She Was Only A Year Old, But Elves Grew Up Fast. Not Like Witches, Who Jenks Swore Were Not Able To Be On Their Own Until They Were Thirty. Ahem.