Skinwalker—a tribal American shape-changer. Most often into predators, though Jane’s Edoda suggested she could turn into other animals too someday.
tlvdatsi—(Tlv is almost a clicking sound with the tongue: Tlv-dat-see). Mountain lion in Cherokee.
Trail of tears—(Nunahi-Duna-Dio-Hilu-I.) or Trail Where They Cried.There are a lot of Cherokee sites online now where you can hear this spoken by a speaker of The People. Please do a search and hear it spoken. It’s beautiful.
Tsalagi—(Ts like in Tsunami: so like Ts-al-ah-ghee). The People, the Cherokee. Also Cheloka.
Tsalagiyi—(as above but added yee or yay at the end). Place of The People.
Ugugu—(U like the oo in boo, with a breath in it. The g’s are said softly, like hg hg: so like hoo ghu ghu). Owl.
Uni lisi—(U like in hoo: So like hoo-nee-lee-see). Grandmother of many children.
Unodena—(hoo-noh-den-ah). Sheep.
Usdia soquili—(hoo-ss-dee-ah soo-que-ili). Pony foal.
U’tlun’ta—(hut-lune-ah). Liver-eater, the insane form of the aged skinwalker.
Uwohali—(hoo-oh-ah-lee). Eagle.
Vampira Carta—(vam-peer-ah car-ta). The law beneath which the Mithrans live.
Wesa—(or wesa, I’ve seen both two-word and one-word spellings.)—(wee-sah). Bobcat or little cat.
The World According to Jane:
Note from Caroclass="underline" Fans of the series know that Jane has her own unique perspective on the world around her. This section represents the gamut of her thoughts and feelings about her own experiences and state of mind, as well as the often puzzling world she now finds herself living and working in.
“I’d never understand the rich and dead or their servants.” (Skinwalker, 101)
“Cradling my injured arm at my waist, I was out of the hood pretty quickly, but I stuck to the shadows, dangling the head. I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.” (Skinwalker, 125)
“I had never been to a party as froufrou as this, and I already hated it—designer party clothes, party social manners, and party people milling around chatting. Give me a beer keg, a radio blasting country music, and a bunch of security experts discussing guns, edged weapons, and Harleys and I was fine. This was agony.” (Skinwalker, 159)
“The man was too good-looking for my own good.” (Blood Cross, 73)
“I’d rather be shot, stabbed, or chewed on by a rogue vamp . . . than go through being fitted for a formal gown again.” (Blood Cross, 78)
“I held my two selves still and fought down anger and insult.” (Blood Cross, 94)
“Thinking about men was frustrating and tied up my mind in barbed wire.” (Blood Cross, 156)
“Angie curled into my side, yawned again, and promptly fell asleep. Happy was far too mundane a term to describe my feelings. There had to be another word better suited to this sappy, sentimental, fiercely protective sensation that thumped through my chest with my lifeblood. Had to be. And it was followed by a jolt of fear, intense and icy. I knew it couldn’t last. Nothing this good ever could, which terrified me down to my toes.” (Blood Cross, 167)
“Great. Small talk in a hospital. Two things I hated at one time.” (Blood Cross, 179)
“Lonely wasn’t something I ever felt—not ever—but the black hole inside me was so empty, so deep, it was a caving in of my soul, imploding like a mountain falling in on itself. A separateness that might be loneliness.” (Blood Cross, 183)
“Summer in New Orleans is not for the fainthearted.” (Mercy Blade, 18)
“I was about to play a hunch, go with my gut, and unlike in TV-land, guts were notoriously unreliable.” (Mercy Blade, 205)
“It was vengeance never satisfied, the empty place in my soul that justice should have filled was still dark and cold.” (Mercy Blade, 259)
“Weres had human feelings, thoughts, hopes, and dreams. And it was likely I was going to kill some, deliberately, with malice and intent. Vengeance wasn’t Christian. Vengeance was something darker. Older. Vengeance was blood-sworn. Blood promising blood.” (Mercy Blade, 259)
“I wished I had a body for each soul, so I could be in two places at once.” (Mercy Blade, 281)
“My occupation has a definite ick factor.” (Raven Cursed, 2)
“Harleys weren’t built for stealth.” (Raven Cursed, 23)
“It was Sunday morning; I should be getting ready for church instead of lying to cops. Yeah, I was going to hell.” (Raven Cursed, 54)
“I’d rather fight an old rogue-vamp in my underwear, with my bare hands, than deal with relationship problems.” (Raven Cursed, 77)
“I wiped my eyes. I never used to cry. Never. But then, I never used to have friends. I never used to put them in danger. I never used to kill humans. My life was changing and it was all pretty much sucky.” (Raven Cursed, 95)
“I had tried to find that ancient, human, Cherokee part of myself, to wake it up and merge it with who I was now, creating one cohesive self. I felt that if I did, if I could find my ancient self, I might find something important, might finally feel whole. But I was fractured, broken, and I didn’t have the time, not now, for self-analysis and soul-searching. Someday. Someday.” (Raven Cursed, 103)
“Cats didn’t care who liked them, as long as everyone else knew their place—at the cat’s feet, under the cat’s claws.” (Raven Cursed, 143)
“I was getting complacent in the world of vamps, weres, humans, and tech. I needed to take better care.” (Raven Cursed, 206)
“Though I had been raised nondenominational Protestant, not Catholic, guilt is something all Christians understand.” (Raven Cursed, 242)
“I’d never had a family, but as an investigator, I knew that family secrets were the very worst. They destroyed so much. Sometimes they destroyed everything, as if, after decades in the grave, the dead reached out to shatter the living.” (Raven Cursed, 261)
“Weird, the things you notice when you were nearly killed while killing and beheading a vampire, and now were trying to make logical decisions while bleeding to death.” (Raven Cursed, 310)
“I’d rather face a pack of wolves than try to comfort someone.” (Raven Cursed, 341)
“There wasn’t much I liked better than yanking a vamp’s chain.” (“Cajun With Fangs”)
“I’m not a public speaker. Not at all. It’s easier to shoot first and divide up the dead later, but maybe I was growing up.” (“Cajun With Fangs”)
“Though he had attacked me, I offered up a prayer for the spirit of my enemy, Cherokee-style, to the Christian God I had worshipped for all the life I remembered. Wondering if there would come a time when God no longer heard me, or worse, when I no longer prayed. That happened sometimes when one wandered into unfamiliar spiritual areas.” (Death’s Rival, 18)