Favourite Cassie moment
My absolute favourite in the series has to be the revelation at the end of Hunt the Moon. It suddenly made everything fall into place and make sense, and rounded off a topic both highly relevant to the plot and very important to Cassie.
âMy power wasnât some alien thing, I thought, watching the sky in wonder. It wasnât borrowed from another or stolen from a better candidate. There was no better candidate; there never would be. It had flowed away from Myra as soon as it saw me, like the tide when the moon comes out. Because it was mineâit was mine; it knew it was mine.â – Karen Chance, Hunt the Moon.
The revelation had such a cathartic, enlightening effect (literally enlightening too, note KCâs pathetic fallacy in relation to the Moon in the scene), and as Cassieâs thoughts summarize, she has finally understood her place in the world, accepted her role as her own, and found herself. Such an amazingly pivotal moment, coming so surprisingly late in the series (book 5!), it really raises huge questions as to what other major bombshells the series has in store.
I view the whole series as Cassie learning who she is. Â i donât agree with all the romance people who see the triangle and root for one person or the other. Â Cassie is who I root for. Â And Cassie has a completely unique viewpoint. Â And as Cassie grows into her own, she going to keep making choices that make people mad. Â But in this book she realizes, finally, that it isnât about the party or the dress, or even who her mother is. Â Its about her. Â Its about finding that one place to stand. Â If you die, you die. Â But Cassie is the Pythia. Â Period. Â End of Report. Â F*ck everyone else. Â and we see more of that in the later books…I canât wait to see what happens next. Â And I totally root for Cassie when she says that she isnât releasing anyone from their pledges and no one is dying for her damn it!
[Top]Cassie and Dorinaâs meeting
âAnd, at the moment, some fuzzy blue stains that glooped along until they hit the mantel. And then flowed along its massive carved shelf until they fell off the other side. I blinked at them for a moment, and then wobbled over. They hadnât waited. By the time I got there, theyâd traversed the entire length of the room and disappeared. But before that, theyâd gotten a little clearer for a moment. And instead of random blobs, theyâd formed themselves into a vaguely person-shaped thing, with a distinct head, torso, and a couple smaller bits that might have been arms or tentacles. I supposed the former was more likely, but considering where I was, I wasnât ruling out the latter. But hereâs hoping , I thought, and stuck my head in the fireplace. Or, more accurately, through the fireplace, because the bastard wasnât really there. It shouldnât have surprised meâwhat does a vampire really And now that I thought about it, I vaguely recalled the consul vanishing into one the last time I was here, when sheâd thought I was too out of it to notice. Like I had just done. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark, and then to notice that I was standing in a corridor, surrounded by a wedge of hazy light. It was coming from a filmy ward over the surface of a square opening in the wall. The fireplace, I assumed, which was apparently just for camouflage. I could see the whole room from here, including the bed, which was creepy. But not as creepy as another light monster coming my way. What is this, Grand Central? I thought, staring stupidly at the haze for a second, which was getting rapidly brighter. And then I stumbled quickly in the opposite direction.  It wasnât exactly a run, because running into utter blackness isnât fun, and I wasnât really up to it right now anyway. The best I could manage was a shuffle, with a hand on the wall for balance. But at least there was nothing to trip over, because nobody had bothered about decoration in here. It was just a concrete floor, cold against my bare feet, and an equally cold blank wall. Or it was until a reddish light started coming toward me from the other direction. I turned around, but the purple light monster was still there and still coming up strong behind me, judging by the way shadows were jumping on the ceiling. Well , s hit , I thought, backing up, trying to get a wall behind me. Which would have worked better if there had been one there. But my reaching hand found only air, just my ears registered a difference in the echo. I was standing in front of another opening. my head spinning, so I didnât see much as the blobs passed by outside. Just flickers of different colors strobing in through the opening for a second. And then they were gone and everything was dark again. Except for something that gleamed to the far right of the room, displacing a tiny bit of dark. My eyes fixed on it, and after a moment, it came into focus. It was a candle. I felt my spine relax, and I let out a breath I hadnât noticed I was holding. It was sitting on a small table by a bed. The bed was big and old-fashioned, with a canopy and curtains to close it off from the coldâand the consulâs spy tunnel, I assumed. It was the sort that had gone out of style with humans when things like central heating came into vogue, but had retained its popularity in the vampire community due to offering added protection from the sun. Of course, that wasnât needed here. A windowless room inside a vampire stronghold was about as far from sunlight as it was possible to get. But the bed was there anyway. So it probably belonged to one of the older vamps, who tended to be more traditional. And who probably wouldnât be thrilled to wake up and find a dhampir looming over him or her. I paused, because the last thing I needed was another fight. And if whoever was in there was old, they were probably also powerful and well rested and IâŚwas not. So it might not just be inconvenient. I should go back to bed. kill him for five centuries and had usually ended up dead instead. He was fine and I didnât even know that this was his room and he was fine . I moved closer. What the hell, feet? I thought, but the feet didnât comment. Except to send up happy signals about the squashiness of the rugs and the smoothness of the wooden patches in between them. Which were brief because it looked like somebody had mugged a caravan in here, with a dozen priceless rugs scattered carelessly around. But at least they muffled my steps, not that I was worrying about it by the time I got halfway across the room. Because along with fine leather and old books and the faint smokiness of the candle was an even fainter scent. Dark and musky and piney andâ âMircea.â He was lying on his side, pale and cold and white, and for a second, my heart stopped. Until I told myself not to be stupid. He was a vampire . And when they rest, they donât always bother to keep up appearances. Especially if they need their strength for other things. But I didnât breathe again until I bent over him, and brushed fine strands of loose, dark hair off his face. And saw beautiful pale features, which unlike mine had been cleaned up. And vampires donât waste time on corpses that arenât going to rise again. So if he was hereâ could repair anything to do with the mind. Couldnât he? I glanced around. It would help if he had eaten, but if so, dinner had already departed. I frowned at that. What if he woke up hungry? What if his mental abilities were impaired after everything that had happened? Why the hell was nobody here? The guy was a goddamned senator. Didnât he rate a nurse? I glanced at the door, and thought about raising some hell, even if it got me kicked back to my room. Or into a cell, more likely, because no way was Marlowe just letting me walk out of here. The number of guards had said that much. But, of course, Mircea did rate a nurse, he rated a whole roomful of them. So if he was alone, it was by choice. But I still didnât like it. What if that thing was still around here somewhere? What if it attacked him again? Only it wouldnât, would it? If Radu was right and it hadnât been Dorina, then it was almost certainly someone with a vested interest in my not recalling what happened on that pier. And that meant if it came back for anyone, it would be me. I felt my lips draw back from my teeth slightly. Good. It would save me the trouble of having to track it the hell down. Because I would. The son of a bitch had hurt Mircea. And nobody got to do that but me. I stared at him a moment longer, but he wasnât looking real conversational. I shoved my hand through my hair, then cupped it on the back of my neck. The muscles were so tense there, it felt like I could flick a thumb against my nape and hear it twang. Like feel like leaving, even though there was no reason to stay. Mircea was already in a healing trance, judging by the fact that he hadnât woken up as soon as I came in the room. He didnât need medical help, beyond what he could give himself, and as for mental⌠Well, whatever abilities I had were locked up with my other half, and she wasnât talking. But I still didnât feel like going anywhere. Mirceaâs hand slipped off the sheet, to the mattress at his side. I started to pick it up, to put it back in place. And then I stopped, my fingers hovering a few inches above his. Even in a healing trance, something like a touch might wake a master. In fact, on some level, he was probably already awake, at least enough to have identified me as not posing a threat. But a touch might set off alarms, might make him wonder if heâd identified correctly. And I didnât want that. Mircea often managed to run circles around me in conversation even when I wasnât about to fall over. We needed to talk, about a lot of things, about a lifetime of things. But this wasnât the time. And then there was the fact that this wasâŚnice. Odd, because I could never remember being with him without having my hackles up, without being tense and guarded and watchful. I had, of course; that scene in Venice proved that. But it had seemed almostâŚsurreal. That girl with her bare toes and her candy-thieving ways and her obvious adoration of her equally adoring fatherâŚit justâŚI couldnât⌠I pulled my hand back. wasnât an expression Iâd seen very often. Or ever, actually. But then, maybe heâd never had much to be relaxed about. I wondered what it had been like for him, in those early years. For someone trained his whole life to be the leader, the provider, the protector, to suddenly be unable to do any of those things. To be a prince without a country, or a treasury, or an armyâor even a body he could understand. Because his exile had come at the same time that heâd been dealing with this whole new existence that had been foisted onto him. Heâd gone from having everything to having nothing, almost overnight. And yet, somehow heâd managed. And in Venice, of all places, which had been a snake pit of vampire intrigue, back in the day. And not only managed, but taken care of others at the same time. I wonât always be weak.⌠And he never had been. He neverâ I swallowed and blinked back tears. God, I didnât know what the hell was wrong with me. That attack must have messed me up more than Iâd thought. Then I decided to hell with it and leaned over, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. And heard a softer sound behind me. I turned abruptly, because I hadnât heard the door open. But it must have, because dinner was waiting on the threshold. Tonightâs tasty morsel was young and pale, with messy blond curls and unsettling bright blue eyes. They looked a little unfocused, like she was looking both through me and at me at the same time. She was a little creepy. She was also useless right now. âHe doesnât need you,â I told her, clutching at my sheet, which what he needs.â She just stood there, her mouth hanging open. I thought there was a chance that she might be a little slow. âYou can go,â I repeated. âVamoose, amscray, make like a tree. Do you get it?â âYeah.â The voice had gone flat, cold. âI get it.â And then the next thing I knew, I was sitting all alone in the middle of a field filled with mud and some very startled cows. Who werenât half as startled as I was. I got up, slid on a cow pie and went back down, landing in a puddle and splattering mud everywhere . And somewhere far off, like an echo of an echo, I could swear I heard someone laughing.  The fuck ?â #Karen Chance, Furyâs Kiss
[Top]Cassie and Pritkin and Mircea
So, this may make me unpopular BUT…I donât know who I want to see together.  There are plenty of reasons to hate both the men in Cassieâs life. They are each manipulative.  And Pritkin, well heâs actively trying to kill her for a really long time.  And then trying to sacrifice himself for her, because he doesnât know how to live without her.  Mircea isnât  always perfect and there is some hidden conspiracy involving the pythian court.  But Cassie wouldnât have made it through all the trials and tribulations of being Pythia without BOTH men.  And Mircea loves her.  He send her lots of family members and despite the power dynamic being fluid, he is always supportive.  And when he finds out all the stuff thatâs been happening–well vampires donât do fear well.  And yet, he loves her and doesnât apologize for it.  Pritkin may get there, but he isnât used to living at all.  Mircea has been the one left behind-by his mother, and by Dorinaâs mother.  He has struggled to raise a child alone and with no help.  So he tries to protect Cassie, is that so bad?  But he also keeps her out of the political shit too.  He hasnât turned her over to the consul, or ordered her away from Vegas. Â
And I gotta be honest, even when Pritkin is âsacrificingâ for Cassie its pretty self serving.  And yet…Heâs got that tragic hero vibe.  But I think Mircea gets a bad rap.  He is off trying to keep Cassie safe by staying away.  Cassie and Mircea could be a power couple.  I just don;t know where I want it to go…
[Top]Wanted to Recommend Some Series to Make the Wait Better
So, for all my fellow fans out there rereading series over and over while waiting for the next book in any of our series–here are some series you may or may not know about yet…
Lauren Dane- Goddess with a Blade series. Â This is an ongoing PNR with a female kickass protagonist who is a vessel for the goddess Brighid. Â It has all the usual suspects, but a unique take on it. Â Lauren Dane is working on the next book now. Â She has other Paranormal series that are good as well, but this is my favorite
Shiloh Walker-The Hunters Series and The Grimm Circle books. Â Both are unique takes on the original archetypes. Â She also writes a more urban series under the penname J.C. Daniels about a really cool heroine Kit Colbana who is a member of a unique species called the Aneira. Â
Seanan Mcguire-October Daye, Incryptid and Indexing series–This has sarcasm in spades and all 3 are incredible stories. Â She also writes under the penname Mira Grant.
Kelley Armstrong-Cainsville (unique story based on celtic archetypes) and Casey Duncan Series (murder mysteries, sort of)
Karen Chance- Cassandra Palmer and Dorina Basarab series…a unique take on the usual Paranormal types. Â Focuses on time travel and is non stop action with a humorous take
Jacqueline Carey-Kushiels series More traditional fantasy with a lot of religious imagery and a lot of sex and violence Very good, and was around before PNR was a thing
[Top][Top]John Pritkin Appreciation Week – Favorite Book
Hunt the Moon
âItâs âI Love Rock ân Roll.â Itâs a classic.âÂ
That got me a dark glance thrown over his shoulder, but he didnât say anything. He just dug a couple of quarters out of his jeans and made a selection of his own. And oh, my God.Â
âJohnny Cash?â
[Top]The front counter of the little booth was lined with cobweb doilies on
which sat the usual diabetic-coma-inducing pyramids of doughnuts and pastries.
And something new. Something awful.âWhat is that?â he demanded,
transferring his glare from the case to the Goth girl standing behind it.She looked like an extra from Beetlejuice, all wild black hair and dead
white makeup except for raccoon-dark circles around her eyes. But her
expression indicated that he was the one being scary. Her gaze dropped to the
item in question, which was wedged between a tower of zombie cake pops and a
bunch of âfruit cupsâ laced with custard and cream.âM-muffin?â she asked, as if she wasnât sure.
He couldnât blame her. The monstrosity spilling over the edge of a
shiny gold baking cup was big as a couple of clenched fists, a bloated alien of
a sweet menacing the other nearby treats. And then he noticed the little
heart-shaped sticker that someoneâsome fiendâhad
attached to the front of the foil.âHeart healthy?â he asked,
outraged.âł Karen Chance – Shadowland
Just some quality art posting of a perfect, angry mage
[Top]Just started a Cassie Palmer blog and need to know who I should be following. If you post a lot of Cassie Palmer content, like or reblog this so I can follow you!