“I dodged behind Mac for cover and refused to take the bait. I glanced at my nonexistent watch. 'Oops, look at the time. Guess I have to be going now. Let's not do this again sometime, okay?'Before I could move, Pritkin was there, jamming the medallion into the skin of my upper arm.'Ow!'He looked at me expectantly. I glared at him. 'That hurt!'What do you see?'A big red mark,”

“I dodged behind Mac for cover and refused to take the bait. I glanced at my nonexistent watch. 'Oops, look at the time. Guess I have to be going now. Let's not do this again sometime, okay?'Before I could move, Pritkin was there, jamming the medallion into the skin of my upper arm.'Ow!'He looked at me expectantly. I glared at him. 'That hurt!'What do you see?'A big red mark,”

“If I'd had enough breath, I would have screamed, both at the sensation and at the sheer pettiness of the bastard who wouldn't allow me even a tiny chance of escape.”

“A gentleman would have announced himself!” I told him, pressing against the side of the tub. “And a scoundrel would have joined you.”-- Kit Marlowe to the witch Gillian (shortly before joining her in the tub!)”

“You look furious,” Pritkin said, watching me.“I just—I can’t understand not fighting for your life— for what you want. Just giving up—”A corner of his mouth quirked. “No. You would not understand that. You never stop trying, do you?”“What else is there?”“Despair. Hopelessness. Anger. Depression.”“But those don’t get you anywhere.”He huffed out something that might have been a laugh, only it didn’t sound happy. “No. They don’t.”

“He wasn't that good looking, he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird”

“Aw, fudge,' floated down to me, as a couple of golden eyes peered over a third-floor window ledge. 'You're a freaking dhampir. Why are you reading Tolkien?'I shrugged, then had to dodge the potted geranium he threw at me. 'After five hundred years, you've read just about everything. Besides, he had hella world-building skills.”

“The only good thing was that by midnight, even most of the bums had gone home to sleep it off. That was lucky for them, because Ray was the worst damn driver I’d ever seen. And that was after I jerked his head out of the duffel and parked it on the dashboard.“Gah! That makes it worse!” he told me, as I tried to get the eyes facing forward.“How can it possibly be worse?”“Because I got double vision now! Get it off! Get it off!”He batted at his own head and succeeded in sending it tumbling into Christine’s lap. She immediately went into hysterics and slapped it away. The head fell out of the car; Ray hit the brakes and we came to a screeching halt.“What are you doing?” I screeched, as he hopped out. “There are people firing at us!”“Tough!” came from somewhere under the car.”

“I felt betrayed and absolutely livid, but my body wasn’t smart enough to know it. It had liked the feel of his hands, wanted more of it, wanted it now. It was almost like there were two of me, one who heartily approved of the mage and one who would have dearly loved to see him dead.”

“Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.”

“When good Americans die, they go to Paris,' the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette.”

“I wasn't entirely sure, but a polite John Pritkin might be a sign of the apocalypse.”