Crescent City Book Quotes

A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like?

It is on Avallen, and females are not allowed beyond the lobby of the archives.” “Yeah, our periods would probably get all over the books.

at Parthos that a doomed human army made its final stand against the Vanir? To save proof of what they were before the Rifts opened—to save the books. A hundred thousand humans marched that day knowing they would die, and lose the war.” Micah’s smile grew. “All to buy the priestesses time to grab the most vital volumes. They loaded them onto ships and vanished.

Bryce drained the last sips of her third coffee of the day, and debated whether a fourth cup would have her crawling on the ceiling by lunchtime.

But why do you know this? How do you have this collection?” “I’ll refrain from making the comparison to a dog with a bone.” Jesiba closed her laptop with a soft click. Interlaced her fingers and set them upon the computer. “Quinlan knew when to keep her mouth shut, you know. She never asked why I have these books, why I have the Archesian amulets that the Parthos priestesses wore.” Ithan’s mouth dried out. He whispered, “What—who are you?

A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like? A hundred thousand men and women marched to defend a library—it sounds like a bad joke these days.

Ithan swallowed hard. “What kind of a curse?” She gestured to her longer hair, her softer face. “To live, unchanging, until I showed him the true power of the books,” she said simply. “He still believes they’re a weapon, and that I’ll one day grow tired enough of living that I’ll hand them over and reveal all their supposed secret weapons.

A great civilization lived on Midgard long before the Asteri conquered it.” He could have sworn she sounded sad. “One that prized knowledge in all its forms. So much so that a hundred thousand humans marched at Parthos to save these books from the Asteri and Vanir who came to burn them.” She shook her head, face distant. “A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like? A hundred thousand men and women marched to defend a library—it sounds like a bad joke these days.” Her eyes blazed. “But they fought, and they died. All to buy the library priestesses enough time to smuggle the books out on ships. The Vanir armies intercepted most of them, and the priestesses were burned, their precious books used as kindling. But one ship …” Her lips curved upward. “The Griffin. It slipped through the Vanir nets. Sailed across the Haldren and found safe harbor in Valbara.” Ithan slowly shook his head. “How do you know all this, when no one else does?” “The mer know some of it,” she hedged. “The mer aided the Griffin across the sea, at the behest of the Ocean Queen.

Not a comforting thought, but Bryce nonetheless popped the silver bean into her mouth, worked up enough saliva, and swallowed. Its metal was cool against her tongue, her throat, and she could have sworn she felt its slickness sliding into her stomach. Lightning cleaved her brain. She was being ripped in two. Her body couldn’t hold all the searing light— Then blackness slammed in. Quiet and restful and eternal. No—that was the room around her. She was on the floor, curled over her knees, and … glowing. Brightly enough to illuminate Rhysand’s and Amren’s shocked faces. Azriel was already poised over her, that deadly dagger drawn and gleaming with a strange black light. He noted the darkness leaking from the blade and blinked. It was the most shock Bryce had seen him display. “Put it away, you fool,” Amren said. “It sings for her, and by bringing it close—” The blade vanished from Azriel’s hand, whisked away by a shadow. Silence, taut and rippling, spread through the room. Bryce stood slowly—as Randall and her mom had taught her to move in front of Vanir and other predators. And as she rose, she found it in her brain: the knowledge of a language that she had not known before. It sat on her tongue, ready to be spoken, as instinctual as her own. It shimmered along her skin, stinging down her spine, her shoulder blades—wait. Oh no. No, no, no. Bryce didn’t dare reach for the tattoo of the Horn, to call attention to the letters that formed the words Through love, all is possible. She could feel them reacting to whatever had been in that spell that set her glowing and could only pray it wasn’t visible. Her prayers were in vain. Amren turned to Rhysand and said in that new, strange language—their language: “The glowing letters inked on her back … they’re the same as those in the Book of Breathings.” They must have seen the words through her T-shirt when she’d been on the floor. With every breath, the tingling lessened, like the glow was fading. But the damage was already done. They once again assessed her. Three apex killers, contemplating a threat. Then Azriel said in a soft, lethal voice, “Explain or you die.

But the kristallos pinned Micah, ripped open his chest—” She nearly tripped over the curb, and whipped around to gape at him. “That was Micah?

My keys were in my purse.

Horror crept into her eyes, and he scrambled for a way to get rid of it, unsure why.

Cheeseburger—with cheese fries. And a chocolate milkshake.

But she eyed him. “You ever want to talk about it, Athalar, I’m here.

Ruhn snarled, but Bryce asked, surveying them, “What’s the deal with you two?

For a heartbeat, Bryce debated grabbing the Second by the shoulder and explaining that he’d be better off finding a nice, sweet wolf who wanted to have a litter of pups, and that he didn’t really want someone who was ten kinds of fucked-up,

Bryce set down the fork. Folded her napkin into a neat square before she rose. “I’m going.” “All right,” Reid said, eyes fixed on his screen.

Don’t be a walking target,” Fury said coolly,

No one knew what went on in the Sleeping City. If the dead roamed through the mausoleums,

Did Danika Fendyr roam that misty island? Or part of her, at least?

Danika stole the Horn.

An otter in a reflective yellow vest stood on its hind legs,

He reached for her shoulder, but lowered his hand. How many people ever saw the hands of the Umbra Mortis reach for them with no hint of violence?

I will never talk to her again.

It’s a hybrid, with its other traces causing it to be canceled out in the other categories. A cloaking device, almost.

Was she killed by whoever is creating the synth? If she was on that boat to seize their shipment?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Could the person selling the synth and the person searching for the Horn be the same, if the synth can possibly repair the Horn?

Brushed his mouth against hers.

Hunt’s temper became a living, deadly thing. His lightning pushed against his skin, coiling through him, a cobra readying to strike.

There was nothing left in her but roaring silence as Hunt’s face became clear.

And Danika used it herself. Was addicted to it.

Hated the pain in Hunt’s eyes as he stared at her, only her, and said, “I’m sorry.

What could be worse than what the other two are enduring? A long, horrible pause. A lot of things, Ruhn Danaan.

Oh—I am not … This is my sister’s clinic. She went on holiday, and asked me to cover for her while she’s gone.” She gestured again to the hallway, graceful as a queen.

And realized he’d never gotten her name.

She’d called Ruhn—that’s who she’d been on the phone with when he got back. He rubbed at his chest.

I’m still taking birth control, yes.” “Bryce Adelaide Quinlan, you know what I mean.

tendrils of lavender-scented steam from the diffuser

Not interested,” she said.

The Prince of the Chasm paused, as if clinging to this world. “Make the Drop, Bryce Quinlan.” He flickered. “And find me when you are done.

The rice finished cooking, and she divvied it into two bowls before dumping the meat mixture on top of it. She extended one to him.

So we can finish this.

His blood poured out between her fingers. It did not stop.

Some of the darker mer had done just that, long ago. Carried human brides down to their undersea courts and kept them there, trapped within the massive air bubbles that contained parts of their palaces and cities, unable to reach the surface.

but the official who headed up that part of the investigation was Sabine Fendyr.

It was all the Oracle told her, apparently. Which makes no sense, because Danika was one of the least lovey-dovey people I’ve ever met, but …” Bryce toyed with the amulet around her neck, zipping it along the chain. “Something about it resonated with her.

She could be a faun or a satyr. Or a witch or a shifter. Or an Asteri, as Cormac had suggested. Maybe the fire was that of the holy star in her. She merely stood there, burning. Well? Her voice was beautiful. Like a golden song.

Another soft laugh. You already have, Agent Night. Did you just give me a code name? Night and Daybright. Night and Day—he liked that.

If I’d gone to you in Nena, I never would have come here. To Lunathion.” His smile broadened as he walked out. “I never would have met Bryce.

When was the last time two Starborn royals lived peacefully side by side?

What happened? How did you find my mind? I don’t have the crystal. I have no idea what happened to you. Or how I found your mind. I simply felt … I don’t know what I felt, but the bridge was suddenly there. I think you’re in grave danger, wherever you are.

can. I know it. I have never met you, and you have never met me— How can you know that, if you don’t know who I am? OPEN YOUR EYES!

He grabbed her around the middle, nearly tackling her, and they were gone. Wind roared and the world spun out from beneath her,

His bed, his blood roared. Even if he hadn’t been near it in months. His bed, his Bryce,

She’s a fucking thunderbird!

So many times, for those rebels, she had drawn up power from the grid, from lights and machines, and killed and killed, until her soul lay in tatters.

I’m here to meet my bride.

In ancient times, Starborn rivals would slit each other’s throats.

It is her fate to be tied to a powerful male to match her own strength. I would rather not learn what comes of her union with the Umbra Mortis.” “So you betrothed her to Cormac to avoid that?” “To consolidate that power for the Fae.

She was tied to lead blocks and dropped into the water around here.” By the Hind.

He didn’t dare to look back before he left.

He’d have traded in the title in a heartbeat if it meant he could have Lesia back. Hear his younger sister’s boisterous laugh one more time. Catching and killing her murderer hadn’t eased that feeling.

You have to picture where you want to go. Then simply allow yourself to take that step. As if you’re folding two points on a piece of paper so that the two points can meet.

But Hunt grabbed her fingers, laying them on his heart again. “What about mate?

He’d already made a reservation at a fancy-ass hotel restaurant. And reserved a large suite. With rose petals and champagne.

Again, silence fell, but they remained kneeling there, face-to-face. She said after a tense moment, “I hate him. No one knows it, but I do. He disgusts me.” “Then why sleep with him?” “Because I …” A long sigh. “It’s complicated.

Good thing a dragon now owes me a debt.

There are so many other people suffering out there. But it doesn’t sit right with me.

When can he come home?” Home. The word rang through Ithan. He’d been their roommate for only a week and a half.

We got you, wolf.

I wish you’d stop using that nickname. Ever since the Summit

Got space for one more roommate?

The Asteri fed on firstlight. The Asteri … needed firstlight.

the isle existed in beautiful, near-permanent twilight.

select few in the entirety of your world could shift from their humanoid forms to animal ones.

He wasn’t ready to lose that piece of his soul.

When she was a vat of life, a mother to all, a secret language of the universe? The Fae worshipped her then.

interweb.

An hour later, after a quick check of the program scanning the gallery footage for Danika, Ithan had headed for the Istros, grabbing an iced coffee on his way. He suppressed a smile as he handed over a silver mark to a whiskery otter whose name tag on his yellow vest said Fitzroy.

The wolves could be at the Meadows in three minutes. Three minutes through Hel, through the slaughter and death. Three minutes in a flat-out run, a sprint to save the most defenseless among them. The human children. The jackals joined them. The coyotes. The wild dogs and common dogs. The hyenas and dingoes. The foxes. It was who they were. Who they had always been. Defenders of those who could not protect themselves. Defenders of the small, the young. Shifter or true animal, that truth lay etched in the soul of every canine.

One by one, the angels in the 33rd rose to their feet. Then Ruhn and his friends. And they, too, put their hands on their hearts as the smallest of their House pushed and pushed against the glass wall, burning gold as the nøkk tried to flee to any place it might survive what was about to come.

He’d asked only once about what his father was looking for, exactly. Patterns was all his father said. The Autumn King sat at one of the four massive worktables, each littered with books and an array of glass and metal devices. Experiments for whatever the fuck his father did with those patterns. Ruhn passed one of the tables, where iridescent liquid bubbled within a glass orb set over a burner—the flame likely of his father’s making—puffs of violet smoke curling from it.

Hunt said, “The kristallos’s presence in Lunathion suggests the Horn is still inside the city walls.” Bryce pinned Ruhn with a look. “Why does the Autumn King suddenly want it?” Ruhn chose his words carefully. “Call it pride. He wants it returned to the Fae. And wants me to find it quietly.” Athalar asked him, “But why ask you to look for the Horn?” The shadows veiling them rippled. “Because Prince Pelias’s Starborn power was woven into the Horn itself. And it’s in my blood. My father thinks I might have some sort of preternatural gift to find it.” He admitted, “When I was browsing the Archives last night, this book … jumped out at me.” “Literally?” Bryce asked, brows high. Ruhn said, “It just felt like it … shimmered. I don’t fucking know. All I know is I was down there for hours, and then I sensed the book, and when I saw that illustration of the Horn … There it was. The crap I translated confirmed it.” “So the kristallos can track the Horn,” Bryce said, eyes glittering. “But so can you.

Lehabah had been guardian of the gallery’s library for decades. Logic insisted that ordering a fire sprite to watch over a library was a poor idea, but when a third of the books in the place would like nothing more than to escape, kill someone, or eat them—in varying orders—having a living flame keeping them in line was worth any risk.

Ruhn tapped the book. “Permanently broken, apparently. It says here that once it was cracked, the Fae claimed it could only be repaired by light that is not light; magic that is not magic. Basically a convoluted way of saying there’s no chance in Hel of it ever working again.

But she had enough gods-damned self-respect not to let him explain, not to accept sex that was merely okay basically in exchange for meals at restaurants she could never afford, and a man who had indeed rolled off her and gotten right back on that phone. So she swiped the bottle of wine and stepped away from the table, but not toward the exit.

The Prime halted her with a dry, leathery hand on her own. Squeezed. “You did not ask why we have forgotten their names.” Bryce started. “You know?” A shallow nod. “It is one scrap of lore most of my people were careful to ensure never made it into the history books. But word of mouth kept it alive.” Brush crackled. Shit. She had to go. The Prime said, “We did unspeakable things during the First Wars. We yielded our true nature. Lost sight of it, then lost it forever. Became what we are now. We say we are free wolves, yet we have the collar of the Asteri around our necks. Their leashes are long, and we let them tame us. Now we do not know how to get back to what we were, what we might have been. That was what my grandfather told me. What I told Sabine, though she did not care to listen. What I told Danika, who …” His hand shook. “I think she might have led us back, you know. To what we were before we arrived here and became the Asteri’s creatures inside and out.

Her tingling fingers brushed over the titles. On the Divine Number; The Walking Dead; The Book of Breathings; The Queen with Many Faces …

Tharion finished Sofie’s inbox, checked the junk folder, and then finally the trash. It was mostly empty. He clicked open her sent folder, and groaned at the tally. But he began reading again. Click after click after click. His phone chimed with an alert: thirty minutes until he needed to get into the water. He could reach the air lock in five minutes, if he walked fast. He could get through another few emails before then. Click, click, click. Tharion’s phone chimed again. Ten minutes. But he’d halted on an email dated three years ago. It was so simple, so nonsensical that it stood out. Subject: Re: Dusk’s Truth The subject line was weird. But the body of her email was even weirder. Working on gaining access. Will take time. That was it. Tharion scanned downward, toward the original message that Sofie had replied to. It had been sent two weeks before her reply. From: BansheeFan56 Subject: Dusk’s Truth Have you gotten inside yet? I want to know the full story. Tharion scratched his head, opened another window, and searched for Dusk’s Truth. Nothing. No record of a movie or book or TV show. He did a search on the email system for the sender’s name: BansheeFan56. Another half-deleted chain. This one originating from BansheeFan56. Subject: Project Thurr Could be useful to you. Read it. Sofie had replied: Just did. I think it’s a long shot. And the Six will kill me for it. He had a good feeling he knew who “the Six” referred to: the Asteri. But when Tharion searched online for Project Thurr, he found nothing. Only news reports on archaeological digs or art gallery exhibits featuring the ancient demigod. Interesting. There was one other email—in the drafts folder. BansheeFan56 had written: When you find him, lie low in the place I told you about—where the weary souls find relief from their suffering in Lunathion. It’s secure. A rendezvous spot? Tharion scanned what Sofie had started to reply, but never sent. Thank you. I’ll try to pass along the info to my She’d never finished it. There were any number of ways that sentence could have ended. But Sofie must have needed a place where no one would think to look for her and her brother. If Sofie Renast had indeed survived the Hind, she might well have come here, to this very city, with the promise of a safe place to hide. But this stuff about Project Thurr and Dusk’s Truth … He tucked those tidbits away for later. Tharion opened a search field within Declan’s program and typed in the sender’s address. He started as the result came in. Danika Fendyr.

Ithan said slowly, “Hel is our enemy.” “Is it?” Aidas laughed, ears twitching. “Who wrote the history?” “The Asteri,” Tharion said darkly. Aidas turned approving eyes on him. “You’ve heard the truth in some form, I take it.” “I know that the official history of this world is not necessarily to be believed.” Aidas leapt off the counter, trotting to the coffee table again. “The Asteri fed their lies to your ancestors. Made the scholars and philosophers write down their version of events under penalty of death. Erased Theia from the record. That library your former employer possesses,” he said, turning to Bryce, “is what remains of the truth. Of the world before the Asteri, and the few brave souls who tried to voice that truth afterward. You knew that, Bryce Quinlan, and protected the books for years—yet you have done nothing with that knowledge.” “What the fuck?” Ithan asked Bryce. Aidas only asked, “What was this world before the Asteri?” Tharion said, “Ancient humans and their gods dwelled here. I’ve heard the ruins of their civilization are deep beneath the sea.

Jesiba huffed a soft laugh. The enchantress who’d defected from her witch-clan and sworn allegiance to the House of Flame and Shadow still lurked around Lunathion, but Bryce hadn’t seen her in months. Not since the day Jesiba had found Bryce poking around the watery ruins of the gallery library and told her not to come back. Not in a mean way. Just in a This gallery is now permanently closed, and those books you’re looking for are hidden away where no one will ever find them sort of manner.

Don't let the books sweet-talk you into taking them home.

world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them. Can you imagine what such a civilization was like?

I want to see this research myself.” “It is on Avallen, and females are not allowed beyond the lobby of the archives.” “Yeah, our periods would probably get all over the books.

A world where people loved and valued books and learning so much that they were willing to die for them.

there lived a young witch in a cottage deep in the woods. She was beautiful, and kind, and beloved by her mother. Her mother had done her best to raise her, with her only companions being the denizens of the forest itself

One and the same,” Bryce said. “You know him?” Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Only by reputation.

I learned a lot about how machines work. How to make them not work. Especially at key moments. A lot of people likely died because of that. Because of me.

And don’t think we’re done talking about this weirdness between us.

The demon prince purred the word with such intent. Such delight. Like he had some sort of claim on her. Hunt’s lightning flared.

There’s one right behind you.” Bryce whirled, Hunt with her, lightning poised to strike. Cormac Donnall stood in the doorway, shadows fading from his shoulders. “Hello, Agent Silverbow,” Aidas crooned, then vanished.