Don't talk to the crazy kids. I longed to shout back that we weren't crazy. I'd mistaken her kid for a ghost, that's all. I wondered whether they had books about his sort of thing. Fifty Ways to Tell the Living from the Dead Before You Wind Up in a Padded Room. Yep, I'm sure the library carried that one.

The rottweiler stood his ground and waited for me to take the next step in the dance of ritualized intimidation. Instead, I leaped at him. Screw ritual. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.

Another werewolf thing. Like most animals, we spent a large part of our lives engaged in the three Fs of basic survival. Feeding, fighting and... reproduction.

Wild dogs? Or just Clayton? -Nick Sorrentino (Bitten)

One second he was in my face, making me feel stupid and useless. The next he was like this: hovering, concerned, worried.

I've spent the last decade learning to stand firm and face my problems… or at least batter them until they're unrecognizable.

Ooh, big day in town for our park warden,” I said. “They’re even making you wear the uniform. Hayley’s mom will be happy. She thinks you look hot in it.” Dad turned as red as his hair. Mom’s laugh floated out from her studio. “Maya Delaney. Leave your father alone.