Flesh & Bone (Rot & Ruin #3)

A sword by itself is not evil. A sword can be used to slay an enemy, or release a suffering friend into the darkness. A sword can cut ropes that bind the helpless. A raised sword can be a threat or it can be a symbol of leadership...A weapon, my children, is good or evil depending on the intention of whoever holds it.

Benny took a steadying breath and let it out slowly.
"Nix, I do understand what you're going through. I'm going through it too."
"It's not the same thing," she said very quietly. An elk poked its head out from behind some sagebrush, studied them for a moment, then bent to eat berries from another bush.
"Then why won't you tell me what it is?"
She glared at him. "Honestly, Benny, sometimes I think you don't even know who I am."
With that she turned and stalked away, her spine as stiff as a board. Benny stood openmouthed until she was almost back to the tree where Chong sat with Eve.
"What the hell was that all about?" he asked the elk.
The elk, being and elk, said nothing.

Call my cynical...but I've come to believe that most people who follow a total wack job aren't always true believers. They just like to follow. They like the perks. Makes them feel strong. Kind of weakens your faith in fruitcake fanatics.

Even though Tom wasn't moving, he seemed to be a little farther away. For the first time Benny realized that there were other people in the hallways. They were indistinct, more of a sense of movement in the gray light rather than specific shapes. He thought he recognized one of them, though.
The figure stopped moving, but he stood with his back to Benny.
"Tom-is that Chong?"
"Is that Chong?" Benny asked again. "Is...is he going with you?

Except that death collected everyone. Death is like that. Relentlessly efficient.

Hell was something the Lost Girl knew. She has lived it all her life.

He never did get right all the way again. And every once in a while he'd come down all bitey.

He's a ghost, not a carnival magician.

-Benny Imura

I got this," said Nix, raising her bokken.

It was harder to let yourself sink if someone else needed you to be their rock.

It was why Lilah did not fear death. So many of the people she loved were waiting for her there.

Lilah growled low in her throat, grabbed his shirt with both hands, and hauled him toward her. Into a kiss that was fierce and hot and instantly intense. After several scalding seconds, she shoved him roughly back.
She got to her feet and snatched up her spear, then looked pityingly down at him. "Stupid town boy," she muttered, then turned and jogged into the forest.
Chong lay sprawled, eyes glazed and face flushed.
Holy moley...," he gasped.

Lilah stood above them, tall and beautiful, her white hair whipping in the fresh breeze, her clothes streaked with gore, her hazel eyes glowing with fire.
She turned slowly to Nix and in her ghostly whisper of a voice said, "I hate boys.

Lilah, there's not a living soul on this planet who shouldn't be afraid of Saint John.

...the whole world turned into an all-you-can-eat buffet...

Value is relative,” said the saint. “A man with his house on fire and a man dying of thirst each place a different value on a glass of water.

When Chong made to sit down next to her, Lilah drew her knife and stabbed the point into the earth between them.
"I can see that you need some quiet time," he said and scuttled quickly away.

Yo! Deadheads," he yelled, waving his sword to taunt them. "Nice try, but you're messing with Benny-freaking-Imura, zombie killer. Booyah!

You can learn much about an enemy when you watch him win. We will watch and learn . . . and plan.

Zoms never tired.