Clergyman's

“Daemon clung to Surreal as she flew along the Winds, too weak to argue, too spent to care. His heart, however… His heart held on fiercely to Jaenelle’s soft, sighing caress of his name.Everything has a price.”
— Anne Bishop

“There would be a spike in the number of girls who went out for a walk in the woods and were never heard from again. There always were when stories came out portraying the terra indigene as furry humans who just wanted to be loved.Most of the terra indigene didn’t want to love humans”
—

“It was Jaenelle’s voice, but…She was medium height, slender, and fair-skinned. Her gold mane–not quite hair and not quite fur–was brushed up and back from her exotic face and didn’t hide the delicately pointed ears. In the center of her forehead was a tiny, spiral horn. A narrow strip of gold fur traced her spine, ending in a small gold and white fawn tail that flicked over her bare buttocks. The legs were human and shapely, but changed below the calf. Instead of feet, she had dainty horse’s hooves. Her human hands had sheathed claws like a cat’s. As she shifted position to slip another shard into place, he saw the small, round breasts, the feminine curve of waist and hips, the dark-gold triangle of hair between her legs.Who…?But he knew. Even before she walked over and looked at him, even before he saw the feral intelligence in those ancient, haunted sapphire eyes, he knew. Terrifying and beautiful. Human and Other. Gentle and violent. Innocent and wise.*I am Witch,* she said, a small, defiant quiver in her voice.*I know.* His voice had a seductive throb in it, a hunger he couldn’t control or mask.”
— Anne Bishop