You persist in this romantic vision of what it is to be a vampire, but despite my best efforts to curb it I have a taste for blood.

All that children need is love, a grown-up to take responsibility for them, and a soft place to land.

The king just sits there, moving one square at a time. The queen can move so freely. I suppose I’d rather lose the game than forfeit her freedom.

Sorry, we've got ghosts.

It was a brutal picture, a tug-of-war between two equal but opposing impulses. It had the ring of truth, however.

I'd studied 16th century science and magic. I thought it was strange that people were interested in the same kinds of things my research was about. The more I thought about it, the more intriguing it became and pretty soon I was writing a novel about a reluctant witch and a 1500-year-old vampire.

Her bark is worse than her bite.