“Louis-Cesare and Ray were in trouble. I could tell because I could see them, not clearly, but in fits and starts, little glimmers like a couple of ghosts, if ghosts made "oh shit" faces on the one hand agitated French… — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
“Huh.” “Huh what?” “Would you look at this?” he asked, examining a small box. “It says it glows in the dark.” “So?” “So, what use is that to anybody? I mean, what am I supposed to do? Write her name… — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
I glanced at Radu. "What, exactly is Louis-Cesare's problem?'. [..] Suddenly a speculative gleam lit his eyes. It made me nervous. 'He tends to be very protective of women,"he said thoughtfully. "You're a woman Dory." "Thank you for pointing that out. But I didn't think dhampirs qualified." Radu smirked. "It appears you've been upgraded. — Karen Chance Copy Share
“He had all the self-preservation instincts of a bug near a shiny windshield.” — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
“I liked Pritkin loud and bitching, in other words, his normal state. I didn't like it when he got quiet.” — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
“A courteous war mage. The world really was coming to an end. And then Pritkin ran back around the corner followed by half a… — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
..."I ran out of stock around midnight and dropped by a place, got some Chinese." I hoped he meant takeout. — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
“When good Americans die, they go to Paris,' the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette.” — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
Where. Is. He?" Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like "Don't make me eat your face. — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
“Because the next moment, when I was hauled out from under the bed and up to a pair of so-familiar green eyes, I just hung there limply. And stared. At a face that was hard to look at. Not that it was unattractive. There had been a time when I'd thought so-the overlarge nose, the hard-as-glass eyes, the I-couldn't-be-bothered-to-shave-today-and-possibly-not-yesterday-either stubble… — Karen Chance Copy Share
“I drank some too-hot coffee and scowled at him, annoyed although I couldn't remember why. The light from the lounge was leaking in, highlighting his spiky blond hair. I decided that must be it. "You really hate my hair, don't you?" he asked, a smile flickering over his lips so fast I might have imagined it. "Yeah" "Why?" I reached… — Karen Chance Copy Share
“I rotated my eyeball—and, goddamnit, even that hurt—to see the leader of my bodyguards peering at me.” — Karen Chance Copy Share Image
