Memories were short and history unkind. It was the way of the world.

These days vampires gravitated toward particle accelerators, projects to decode the genome, and molecular biology. Once they had flocked to alchemy, anatomy, and electricity. If it went bang, involved blood, or promised to unlock the secrets of the universe, there was sure to be a vampire around.

Within days they'd formed an unholy alliance with a foppish young French vampire in the Garden District who had implausibly golden hair and a streak of ruthlessness as wide as the Mississippi

If the butterfly wings its way to the sweet light that attracts it, it's only because it doesn't know that the fire can consume it.

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.

My experiences thus far had me planning to throttle the first Tudor historian I met upon my return for gross dereliction of duty.

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