Poison?" she (Granuaile)said,"I hope it isn't iocane powder.

Thank you, Morrigan. This is very helpful," I said, already feeling myself warming up. "And delivered to me entirely without pain." The Morrigan sucker-punched me hard in the face, sending me sprawling in the snow and breaking my nose. "You spoke too soon and with entirely too much sarcasm," she said. "We could have parted with a kiss. Remember that.

Bullshit, as you Americans say. He's Irish. The Irish say bullshit too.

Now go and stake some vamps. Especially the sparkly emo ones.

How would you take care of it?” I asked. He shrugged. “I know some ghouls. I make a couple calls, the guys come over for dinner, problem solved.” “They can put away nine whole giants? There’s that many ghouls in town?” “Probably not,” Leif admitted. “But whatever they do not eat tonight, they’ll take the rest to go.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You mean like a doggie bag?” The vampire nodded with a thin trace of a smile. “They have a refrigerated truck, Atticus. These are practical guys.

Oh. Oberon looked at me. I know that has to make you sad. But call to me instead, Atticus. I'll always answer. Your fly has been open all this time, by the way, and Granuaile hasn't said a thing. Thanks, buddy, I said silently as I tried to surreptitiously zip up my jeans. See? I got your back AND your front. I deserve a treat.

Wooo!’ he said, slamming his shot glass down and coughing a bit. ‘That’s good stuff.’ I agreed heartily. ‘Shall we do another one?’ I asked. ‘Oh no,’ Jesus said quietly, his eyes growing round. ‘This is one of those situations where I have to stop and ask myself, what would I do?