Note To Self: Rachel Morgan Is A

His Mother Got Her Purse. His Father Reached For The Door. "scooter," He Said, By Way Of Good-bye, "have Fun With Your Friends." But Hale Was Shaking His Head. He Put His Arm Around Kat's Shoulders. "she's Not My Friend, Dad. She's My Girlfriend." Hale's Parents Must Have Walked Away, But Kat Wasn't Looking. She Was Too Busy Staring Up At Hale, Trying To See Into His Eyes And Know If He Was Okay. The Sadness That Had Lingered For Weeks Was Fading, And The Boy That Held Her Was The Boy She Knew. A Boy Who Kissed Her Lightly.

I Don’t Understand Hate. I’ve Seen Its Power. I’ve Known Its Wrath. I’ve Even Felt It Coursing Through My Veins, Pushing Me On. But I Don’t Know Where It Comes From Or Why It Lasts, How It Can Take Hold In Some People And Grow.

Sometimes You Forgive People Simply Becuase You Still Want Them In Your Life.

We Don't Have To Do This. Just Say The Word And I Can Have A Jet Here In An Hour. We Can Go Anywhere

Sure, This Was Where Her Father Had Planned The De Beers Diamond Heist When She Was Three. It Was The Very Room Where Her Uncle Had Orchestrated The Hijacking Of Eighty Percent Of The World's Caviar When She Was Seven.