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“He had been standing there recognizing that there was a draft in the loft. He had been standing there without realizing that it wasn't a draft. Someone was breathing, behind him. Someone was breathing on his neck. The knowledge froze him, froze the cry of "Jesus fuck!" in his throat. He turned with incredible slowness, wishing he could seem like a statue in his turning. Then saw with alarm a large, pale, watery-blue eye that existed against a backdrop of darkness or dark rags shot through with pale flesh, and which resolved into Whitby. Whitby who had been there the entire time, crammed into the shelf right behind Control, at eye-level, bent at the knees, on his side. Breathing in shallow sharp bursts. Staring out. Like something incubating. There, on the shelf.”
― Jeff VanderMeer, Authority

“He did what?!" His shoulder jerked out from under her. "Give me the key. I'm going over there---"
"And what?" Seeing the ire, so purely parental, sparked life into her heart. "You'll threaten him into marrying me?"
"Hardly. I'll threaten his life if he dares to come home again”
― Roseanna M. White, The Lost Heiress