I grew up in a house full of women: my mother, grandmother, three sisters, and two female cats. And I still have the buzz of their conversations in my head. As an adult, I have more female friends than male ones: I just love the way that women talk.

YOU COULD LOCK the Gasman in a padded cell with some dental floss and a bowl of Jell-O, and he'd find a way to make something to explode.

Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with the overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then.

To be without love is to be without grace, what matters most in life. We is so much better than I.

Max-I'm not going to die today.

"There is one bright side to this," said Fang. "Yeah? What's that?" The new and improved Erasers would mutilate us before they killed us? He grinned at me so unexpectedly I gorgot to flap for a second and dropped several feet. "You looove me," he crooned smugly. Holding his arms out wide, he added, "You love me this much." My shriek of appalled rage could probably be heard in California, or maybe Hawaii.

If Fang is in any way harmed while I'm gone-if he gets a hangnail-you won't see another morning. Are we clear on that?