Chase him down and stall for time. I need two more minutes. ” “Chase him down? How? The Neon has a flat.” “With your own two feet!” “You mean exercise?

Love the hair. Love when it’s out of control. It’s like seeing a side of you that needs to come out more often.

Don’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.” “She needed a ride.” I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?” “Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.

Nice costume," he said. "Ditto. I can tell you put a lot of thought into yours." Amusement curled his mouth. "If you don't like it, I can take it off.

He gave Marcie a spare to the Jeep—I should park this thing in the ocean, twenty feet under.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal." The boy's dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey's. "Half fallen angel." Chauncey's tutor's voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn't entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. "Who are you?