I am a demon hunter. Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark.

Magnus did not like to go near the Hotel Dumont if he could help it. It was decrepit and unsettling, it held bad memories, and it also occasionally held his evil former lady love.

I like to listen to music that fits with what I'm writing. For each book, I've assembled a playlist, so readers can get a sense of what I was listening to while I was writing.

I have mastered many things in my life. Navigating the streets of London, speaking French without an accent, dancing the quadrille, the Japanese art of flower arranging, lying at charades, concealing a highly intoxicated state, delighting young women with my charms..." Tessa stared. "Alas," he went on, "no one has ever actually referred to me as 'the master,' or 'the magister,' either. More's the pity.

I can't get enough adventure," Magnus said lightly. "And adventure cannot get enough of me.

What’s that poem again?” Will, who had been twirling his empty teacup around his fingers, stood up straight and declaimed: “Each spake words of high disdain, And insult to his heart’s best brother—” “Oh, by the Angel, Will, do be quiet,” said Charlotte, standing up. “I must go and write a letter to Aloysius Starkweather that drips remorse and pleading. I don’t need you distracting me.” And, gathering up her skirts, she hurried from the room. “No appreciation for the arts,” Will murmured, setting his teacup down.

What is one person's pleasure is another's poison.