When you want to take over a city, you have to destroy the illusion of safety it provides. You have to hit the large well-protected establishments, find the powerful people who run them and are viewed as invincible, and kill them. You want to destroy the morale first. Once the people's resolve is gone and everyone is scared for their own skin, the city is yours.

As he passed me, he leaned to Curran and handed him a paper fan folded from some sort of flyer. Curran looked at the fan. “What?” "An emergency precaution, Your Majesty. In case the lady faints.” Curran just stared at him. Raphael strode toward the Pit, turned, flexed a bit, and winked at me. "Give me that,” I told Curran. “I need to fan myself.” "No, you don’t.

Your favorite volhv showed up half an hour ago, complaining about his lack of sleep and stupid gods. He says he brought his Batman belt.

After I chased the werewolf and the vampire out of my office, I changed my clothes.

Mmmm, Kate, the Chief of Security. Sexy. Who better to guard my body then the woman who owns it?" "Curran, I will punch you.

George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forwar, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, 'My past is tragic. I wouldn't want to burden you with it. It's a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence.

Secret to what?" "Secret to shutting you up," he said. "I just have to beat you till you're half-dead, then give you chicken soup and"--he raised his hands--"blessed silence.