I let her through. She checked Derek's pulse and his breathing, saying both seemed okay, then leaned down to his face. "Nothing weird on his breath. Smells . . . like toothpaste." Derek's eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was Tori's face inches from his. He jumped and let out an oath. Simon cracked up. I madly motioned for him to be quiet. "Are you okay?" I asked Derek. "He is now," Simon said. "After Tori jump-started his heart.

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

You wanna fight?" I asked. He looked up at me and, for just a second, hesitated, then said, "Yeah. I do." "Well, I'll save you the trouble. You win.

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.

What am I? Let's just say I won't fetch a stick for you. I won't beg for treats. And, no matter how nicely you ask, I will not roll over and play dead.

The part about me being an 'okay sorcerer'? 'Not great'? No I believe I missed that. -Lucas Cortez (Dime Store Magic)

Oh my God. You're a witch-hunter. I'm a witch. Hate to break it to you Daniel, but if you're a witch-hunter? You're doing it wrong." He gave me a sidelong smile. "Maybe it's not that kind of hunting." "Then you're definitely doing it wrong.