He raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "You need to relax a bit, dove. Like Mouse over there. You trust me, don't you, Mouse?" "Nope!" "Ahhh, I'm hurt. Nobody likes me.

I know it may come as a shock, but it's sort of considered polite to wait for the consent of the woman. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you don't wait, you may have to deal with pesky criminal charges like kidnapping and rape.

I don't trust tragedies much. It's easy to make a person sad by showing him something tragic. We all recognize when sad things happen: someone dies, someone loses a loved one, young love is crushed. It's much harder to make a man laugh-what's funny to one person isn't funny to another.

If the sky could dream, it would dream of dragons.

Ready to put your claws where your mouth is, or are you going to cringe behind the big boys and yip all day?" His eyes flared yellow "Is that a challenge?" "Yes it is.

Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest. "Oh God." He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine." This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with.

It took a qualified wizard to detect a summoning in progress. It required only a half-literate idiot with a twitch of power and a dim idea of how to use it to attempt one. Before you knew it, a three-headed Slavonic god was wreaking havoc in downtown Atlanta, the skies were raining winged snakes, and SWAT was screaming for more ammo.