Granuaile looked terminally depressed when she emerged from the bathroom with raven hair and, as a result rather Goth by accident. She didn't want to get her picture taken. "Aughh!" she said miserably, looking in the vanity mirror in the truck of the cab and fingering a wavy curl near her temple. "This sucks more than anything has ever sucked before. You know what we look like? A couple of emo douche bags." "Well, look at the bright side, Granuaile. Emo Douche Bags would be a great band name." [That's brilliant! It's already the unofficial name of more bands than I can count.]
Kevin HearneI yawned and stretched luxuriously in the morning. I make noises when I stretch because it feels ten times better than stretching silently.
Kevin HearneHow would you take care of it?โ I asked. He shrugged. โI know some ghouls. I make a couple calls, the guys come over for dinner, problem solved.โ โThey can put away nine whole giants? Thereโs that many ghouls in town?โ โProbably not,โ Leif admitted. โBut whatever they do not eat tonight, theyโll take the rest to go.โ I stared at him in disbelief. โYou mean like a doggie bag?โ The vampire nodded with a thin trace of a smile. โThey have a refrigerated truck, Atticus. These are practical guys.
Kevin HearneAwesome! I'd just bullied Jesus into doing a shot with me. Nobody would ever believe it, but I didn't care. We ordered the insanely expensive stuff, seventy-five dollars for a 1.75-ounce pour of premium Irish whiskey, because if you're doing a shot with Jesus, you don't buy him scotch.
Kevin Hearne