My Name's Jet Steele.

I Had A Standing Arrangement With God: I'd Agree To Believe In Him—barely—so Long As He Let Me Sleep In On Sundays.

I Secretly Wondered If Dimitri's Problem Might Be That He Was Jealous. He Hadn't Pulled Lissa Aside To Yell At Her. The Thought Made Me Slightly Happy, But Then I Remembered My Earlier Curiosity About Why Dimitri Had Even Wandered By.

They're True," I Replied Defiantly. "i Came Here To Kill You. And If I Can't Do That, Then I'd Rather Die." "you Failed, You Know. On The Street." "yeah. I Kind Of Figured That Out When I Woke Up Here.

What Were You Thinking?" I Demanded Once We Were Moving To The Music. I Was Trying To Ignore His Hands. "do You Know How Much Trouble You May Have Gotten Me In?" Adrian Grinned. "nah. They All Feel Bad For You. You'll Achieve Martyrdom After Dancing With A Mean, Wicked Vampire. Job Security With The Alchemists.

I Clung To That Spark Of Hope, Nurturing It Into A Small Flame That Chased Some Of The Shadows In My Heart Away.