He balled up my discarded sweatshirt and put it against his shoulder. “Go on,” he said. “I don’t bite.” “And from what I hear, that’s a good thing.” He gave a rumbling chuckle. “Yeah, it is.” I leaned against his shoulder.

...in some ways I relied on that- someone to keep me thinking, keep me striving to do better, keep me from burying my head and praying it all worked out.

The upshot of her tirade was that I was the devil's spawn and should be locked up in a tower before I unleashed hordes of the living dead to slaughter them all in their sleep. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but not by much.

You're telling me that you can raise the dead by simply summoning?" "Yes." "My God," she whispered, staring at me."What have they done?" Hearing her words and seeing her expression, I knew I'd just done something worse than raising the dead-- I'd confirmed her worst fears about us. In her eyes, I saw the same thing I saw when people looked at Derek. I saw fear. And I knew we were in trouble.

What's next? If there are vampires in there, they probably drink artificial blood plasma substitute.

Release the demon under promise that I'd be repaid handsomely, my enemies destroyed? Hmm, where had I seen this before? Oh, right. Every demon horror movie ever made. And the horror part started right after the releasing part.

He looked at me. " I do know how to deal with demons, Savannah." "I know. Sorry." "So I get a hug?" "No, but I won't smack you, and we'll call it even.