Even the powerful needed protection sometimes.

“Doesn't have to be easy to be right.” In that case, we're meant for each other.

Giving in to a shrill instinct, she ran around the side of the building. Butch was marching toward his car as if he were carrying an unstable load, and she rushed to catch up with them. “Wait. I need to ask him a question.” “You want to know his shoe size or something?” Butch snapped. “Fourteen,” Wrath drawled. “I’ll remember that at Christmas, asshole.

He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts? Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking. “Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely

She was seriously staring. Which was what you did when you got a gander at a man who is hung like a Louisville Slugger.

Yeah, but going by that cold tone of voice, she had to wonder whether the best-laid plans of mice and vampires, blah, blah, blah...

I feel like I am wlaking down into a porn movie" V mutteres as they took the steps with care. "Wouldn't that require more black candles for you", Zsadist cracked.