Olivie Blake

This book is about a real estate agent--only the real estate agent is a vampire, and the house she has to sell is haunted, and the ghost haunting the house has been murdered, and he has no idea how he died. This book is also about a medium, and though this particular medium is definitely a shameless fraud, he isn't entirely without his uses--seeing as he's actually the godson of Death.When Viola Marek seeks out Fox D'Mora to help her with her ghost-infested mansion, he becomes inextricably involved in a quest that neither he nor Vi expects (or wants). But with the help of an unruly poltergeist, a demonic personal trainer, a sharp-voiced angel, a love-stricken reaper, and a few high-functioning creatures, Vi and Fox soon discover the difference between a mysterious lost love and an annoying dead body isn't nearly as distinct as they thought.

Masters of Death

Katie Bell

I may be celestial now, but once I was only a woman, and a hard one at that. I did not know love during my lifetime. The only thing I ever truly knew was how to sense a storm, and perhaps how to protect others from it, but never how not to be destroyed by it.

‘I do sometimes experience a headache sensation,’ Volos agreed. ‘Do you suppose that's the guilt?’

‘No,’ Isis said, shaking her head. “Probably dehydration. Guilt is more intestinal, or so I’m led to believe.’

‘I didn't think I was doing such a terrible thing,’ he said slowly, almost childishly. ’I thought I was protecting you.’

’You were,’ Fox permitted. ‘In a sense. But you also caused me the most terrible pain of my lifetime.’

Brittany

In unison like a slithering ouroboros, darkness consuming light the two figures laughed. 

“Everything's a game if you play it right," the second figure said. 

“But strictly speaking, this is no longer a game," said the first figure. "Now it's a war. 

"Perhaps he will. Perhaps Ill even tell you. Or perhaps you'll never know. All equal possibilities, I think. Do you ever think about the world that way? In the many slivered pieces of what could be? Astronomically unending possibilites, but with infnitesimally small likelihoods of each—“

“You’ll have all the pleasure you want," he tells her, "but you will care so deeply that it ails you, and you will suffer the pain of your wrongs like knives.”

She laughs like the rush of the sea, and smiles like the crescent of a wave.

“At least I will suffer for something" she replies. 

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