“His body and mind seemed fueled by the arcane energy burning inside his flesh, and the only time he ever felt tired was when he had gone too long between killings.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to eat.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“You hear it, too?” Walter asked. “Of course I do,” she snapped. “It’s real!” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Okay,” Nina said. “We’re all thinking it, but I’m going to say it. That was really, really stupid. If I hadn’t brought my gun,… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“His mind immediately seized on this metaphor and when he looked down at his wet hands he saw that they had taken on the… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“It’s me,” the old man hollered, his voice shrill and cracking. The suddenness of it caused Walter to pull his hand back involuntarily. “Me!… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Not that I regret my previous choice. It’s only that the anticipation of killing has me feeling particularly appreciative of youth.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“In my dream I can,” he said. “In my dream, I have hands. With claws.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“But, could he truly call himself a scientist if he were to pass up such a unique opportunity?” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Walter took the killer’s notebook from his pocket and was about to open it when Nina gave him a sternly arched eyebrow and a… — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“Nina,” Walter said as she handed him one of the warm boxes. “You are my angel.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
“It’s not real. The image of his creepy ant-hands was nothing more than a standard, slightly silly hallucination.” — Christa Faust Copy Share Image
