I could shave my head and wear a sackcloth and still get a whole lot of ghostly wrong numbers. Makes me wonder if there’s some kind of ghost-necro porn industry down there. ~Jaime Vegas

Bigger room, darling. Like I said, we need a bigger room.

Derek caught my arm again as I started to move--at this rate, it was going to be as sore as my injured one. "Dog," he said, jerking his chin toward the fenced yard. "It was inside earlier." Expecting to see a Doberman slavering at the fence, I followed his gaze to a little puff of white fur, the kind of dog women stick in their purses. It wasn't even barking, just staring at us, dancing in place. "Oh, my God! It's a killer Pomeranian." I glanced up at Derek. "It's a tough call, but I think you can take him.

You guys are weird," Tori said. Simon sat on the crate beside me. "That's right. We are totally weird and completely uncool. Your popularity is plummeting just by being near us.

I was very strict on that point. No devouring classmates." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Other parents warn their kids not to talk to strangers. I had to warn mine not to eat them.

He glanced down at the blood-smeared cut on his side...and realized he wasn't wearing any clothing. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't realized it already. Kind of obvious. It wasn't like he'd been going to take time out to find his clothing before stopping Liam.

You think I led him on? For what? Kicks? I don't have enough exictement in my life, so maybe I'll tease a nice guy, get his hopes up, then laugh and skip away?