…I noticed you don’t have any self-defense training…” “…I can handle myself just fine.” She stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, “In the very short time I’ve known you, you have been chased, shot, robbed, stabbed, drugged, and attacked by magic.” “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?

He was like an undead boomerang. A zomberang.

Let go of the past, of the things I wanted, of the people I loved, and move forward.

Keep digging, Flynn. Six feet makes a grave.

I resisted the urge to pour mouthwash in my brain.

I glanced up at Zay, then walked over to stand next to him. "You look good with a baby in your arms," he murmured. I took his hand, careful with his fingers that were still wrapped in tape. "Don't get your hopes up, Jones. I'm not the settling-down type." "Want to bet on that?" he asked. "Sure." I made a fist; so did he. We pumped three times. I threw paper. Zayvion threw scissors. I'd lost. Startled, I looked up at him. "Two out of three?" Zay grinned. So did I.

... he trotted down the hallway on all fours and started in on his second favorite pastime, conversations with plumbing. Just what I needed: Stone, the Toilet Whisperer.