Charlie tipped her head up. “Are you sure? We’re a simple people. No automobiles or fancy gadgets.”“Simple?” She chuckled. “Ha! Worlds that think and kings that plot? Mandibles and goblins, portals and two moons? You are sadly mistaken. Besides,” she said, tracing the edge of his forewing with the tip of her finger. He shuddered against her. “There’s magic here.

— Cheryl Sterling

Charlie touched her face gently with long, tanned fingers. “Sometimes I don’t know half of what you say, but I’m damn glad I get to hear it.”“I bet you say that to all the mortals,” she joked, then winced as the pain shot through her again.”You’ve been hurt,” he said, as if noticing for the first time all the blood and gore and exposed body goo.”Yeah, but it only hurts when I laugh.”“Then don’t laugh,” he murmured, finishing the old routine as if he’d been born into Vaudeville. His hands gently probed the edges of the gash.

— Cheryl Sterling

Dave had been fun when they’d first dated. Then impending fatherhood had sobered him at the same time Sickle and Company had crooked its finger, turning him from Mr. Right to Mr. Wrong.

— Cheryl Sterling

Gabe ran his hand through his hair and suppressed sending an entreaty to God. It wouldn’t do any good. The motley crew before him could only have been sent by the devil himself. His long-lost sister, a hippie vampire, an angry Italian cop, and a tattooed man with no last name. It was as if Central Casting had thrown up its hands and sent over whomever had walked in the door.

— Cheryl Sterling

How, exactly, did I kill him? He died on the golf course.” One minute he’d been practicing his swing, and in the next—fact—a freak lightning bolt had hit him right in the nine iron. His shoes were still smoking when she reached him.

— Cheryl Sterling

I didn’t argue. Anybody who that drove a Hummer and carried a Glock, let alone had the audacity to wear white after Labor Day, wasn’t to be trifled with.

— Cheryl Sterling

If a relationship crumbles in the universe, does anyone hear it fail?

— Cheryl Sterling

It’s you,” she murmured, staring at his eyes, a fine, dove gray. He smiled. “Of course, it’s me. Let’s get you back to your boat.

— Cheryl Sterling

The stone blurred. The hole expanded to twice its previous size. Unable to believe she’d actually changed its shape, Jane threw all her weight into the next effort. An opening the size of a refrigerator formed and stabilized. Jane blinked in surprise. She looked over to Mettle. He smiled, delight dancing across his face.“Well, bless my buttons,” she exclaimed. “Come on, Scarecrow, we’re off to see the Wizard.” Taking her rescuer’s hand, she walked through the gap.

— Cheryl Sterling