Oh, I get it," I said. "You're Evil Harry, lurking inside Good Harry. Right? And you only come out at night?

An inferior sense of smell," Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, "is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.

Isana felt her throat tighten. "We failed." Serai lifted her chin and patted Isana's arm firmly. "We have not yet succeeded. There is a difference.

Ack!" I said. Fearless master of the witty dialogue, that's me.

It is the prerogative of wizards to be grumpy. It is not, however, the prerogative of freelance consultants who are late on their rent, so instead of saying something smart, I told the woman on the phone, "Yes, ma'am. How can I help you today?

The best thing about my faerie godmother is that the creepy just keeps on coming.

I don't believe in faeries!