I’d signed six things and my stack wasn’t getting any smaller. It was like the paperwork was breeding while I worked.

Any messages for me?" Usually I got one or two, but mostly people who wanted my help preferred to talk in person. "Yes. Hold on." She pulled out a handful of pink tickets and recited from memory, without checking the paper. "Seven forty-two a.m., Mr. Gasparian: I curse you. I curse your arms so they wither and die and fall off your body. I curse your eyeballs to explode. I curse your feet to swell until blue. I curse your spine to crack. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you.

I'm investigating people who sacrifice trained killers to dark gods. Perfect, it will keep him occupied. In what capacity? Bait.

Aha," Andrea said. "I'm going to ignore that you just referred to yourself as 'sugar woogums'.

In diplomacy, like in great many other things, the rules of engagement survive only until one remarkable person decides to break them.

In death, they all looked the same. This morning they spoke, they breathed, they kissed their loved ones good-bye. And now they lay dead. Gone forever.

What's that?" "That's my attack poodle.