Reyes leaned back against the bar, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied me from beneath those same ridiculously long lashes. Men and their freaking lashes. It was so unfair. Like the exorbitant cost of designer shoes. Or world hunger.

Then I asked her if she wanted to to the funeral, and my God, the look on her face. You'd think I'd asked her to drown the neighbor's cat." Admittedly, drowning the neighbor's cat didn't really clue me in as much as I would've liked. "So, she was angry?" He blinked back to me and stared. Like a long time.

The dead guy looked at me with wide eyes. “I can’t move my legs.” I snorted. “You can’t move your arms either, or your feet or your freaking eyelids. You’re dead.

Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick.

Just in case, though, I stormed into my apartment, tossed a quick hello to Mr. Wong, then rummaged through my entertainment center to lay out all my exorcism equipment. I kept it in my entertainment center because exorcisms were nothing if not entertaining.

This is one Fruit Loop beyond certifiable.

He seemed determines, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possible Milk Duds.