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.

All right, then. Emergency medical situation, take two.” He leaped to his feet, staggered, keeled over, then lifted his head weakly. “Chloe? Is that you?” He coughed. “Do you have my insulin?” I placed it in his outstretched hand. “You saved my life,” he said. “How can I ever repay you?” “Undying servitude sounds good. I like my eggs scrambled.” He held up a piece of fruit. “Would you settle for a bruised apple?” I laughed.

I didn't need to be rescued." "Sorry, but my sword outranks your…" she glanced at my hand, "sock puppet.

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 forget, darling, I am the local psychopath." ~Clayton Danvers, Bitten

Are you the welcoming committee? Or has Jeremy finally chained you up to the front gate where you belong?" "I missed you too.

Simon: Anyone ever tell you your sense of timing really sucks? Derek: That's why I don't play the drums. Now what's up?