A Hidden Fire (Elemental Mysteries #1)

Ah," Caspar exclaimed when he walked into the kitchen. "The grey is a good choice. Makes you look much less demon-of-the-night."
"Please, Caspar," he implored. "A date with a live woman. Soon.

And I also believe that love can work miracles."

"Love?" She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What about friendship? Can that work miracles, too?"

Carwyn rolled his eyes. "Silly B, love is friendship...just with less clothes, which makes it far more brilliant.

and she heart began to pound.

and wordlessly opened the small chest of drawers was filled with pure white clothes.

B?  As in the second letter of the Latin alphabet?” he asked, walking closer to the desk.   “No, the Etruscan.  I’m wild like that,

Caspar,” he said. “Beloved son of my friend, David. You have been my child, my friend, my confidante, my ally in this world. And I will be here long after you have left me. What are you asking of me? Do you even realise?

Far be it from me to keep a woman from her book. That could become dangerous.

Go to hell."
A flicker of madness crept into his eyes. "Already there.

He moved heaven and earth to find you, darling girl.

He thought that all human religion and philosophy could be reconciled.  That the quest for knowledge was the highest good; and that somewhere, between all the wars and debate, there was some universal truth he could discover which would bring humanity together.

I have to go out.” A small smile teased the corner of his lips. “Unless you’re offering, of course, then I could just skip the clubs. Much more convenient.” He winked at her.

Knowledge is Power.

Love," he whispered in Italian, "is a single soul inhabiting two bodies".

Love is friendship. Just with less clothes, which makes it far more brilliant.

most libraries were small hotbeds of gossip and personal intrigue.

Now go put some clothes on. Because if you want me to concentrate, you can’t dangle that much naked man in front of me. Vampire or not.

Oh, wow."

"What do you think?"

"I tried to imagine, but--I mean...it's so much more--"

"Think it's large enough to keep you satisfied for a while?"

"It's so much bigger than I expected"

He backed away, leaving Beatrice to gaze in wonder at the library that took up half of the second floor.

"I think I'll just leave you two alone for a bit," he said with a chuckle.

Professional wrestling is simply the most modern interpretation of an ancient tradition of stylized verbal battles between enemies.  From the time that Homer recorded the Iliad, the emergence of what Scottish scholars call ‘flyting’—” “That would be a verbal battle preceding a physical one, but considered equally as important to the overall outcome,” Carwyn interjected.   “Exactly.  Throughout world myth, warriors have engaged in a verbal struggle that is as symbolically important as the battle itself.  You can see examples in early Anglo-Saxon literature—” “You’ve read Beowulf, haven’t you, English major?” Giovanni glanced at the priest, but continued in his most academic voice.  “Beowulf is only one example, of course.  The concept is also prevalent in various Nordic, Celtic, and Germanic epic traditions.  Even Japanese and Arabic literature are rife with examples.”  “Exactly.”  Carwyn nodded along.  “See, modern professional wrestling is following in a grand epic tradition.  Doesn’t matter if it’s staged, and it doesn’t matter who wins, really—” “Well, I don’t know about—” “What matters,” Carwyn shot his friend a look before he continued, “is that the warriors impress the audience as

quick sip of her diet soda before she

Science changes. Truth doesn't.

She had the simultaneous urge to run away from the approaching menace and run toward him and hold on for dear life. The problem, she realised, was that she had no idea whether he would catch her either way.

she pulled herself out of depression by escaping into the other worlds books offered.

She sighed and looked at him sympathetically. 'Cool flame tricks aside, there's no competition.'
He lifted his eyebrow. 'Library wins?'
'Every single time.

So, the wooden stake through the heart thing is apparently a myth, but you can be killed by fire. Anything else?"

"Should I be concerned that one of your first questions is how to kill me?"

Her jaw dropped. "What? No! I didn't mean... I was just curious."

He snorted. "Well you can remain so."

"What about the sun?" she asked. "Extra toasty?"

"I'm not going to burst into flames, but I avoid tanning beds."


"Some of my favorite cufflinks."


"Please," he sneered. "I'm Italian.

still a weak

Tell the truth, Giovanni Vecchio." A mischievous look came to her eye. "You have a butler, a cool car, and I've only ever seen you at night..."

He froze, tension suddenly evident in the set of his shoulders. Beatrice leaned closer and whispered, "You're Batman, aren't you?

The strongest, smartest and wealthiest have the most power.

Where I prosper is my home.” “Do

Why would anyone kill for a book?” “It is not a book.” The slap rung in his ears.  “What is it?” “Knowledge.” “And knowledge is power.  Do you understand?

You can cause earthquakes?”
He sighed, a playful look in his eyes. “There’s such a delicious joke there, but I’m going to be good and hold back. With the amount of sexual tension permeating these grounds, even a bad ‘rock your world’ line is liable to ignite something.