It was a nice bit of blackmail that kept him off my back, but he refused to take the message that I wasn’t going to work for him. ’Course, that might be my fault…since I seemed unable to say no when he waved enough money at me.

I’m not going to pick her up and carry her screaming to the basement,” Trent said. “It’s a workday. Besides, she has a crutch.” “Crutch or no, she’s hurt!” Ceri protested. “I mean,” Trent said intently, “she can hit me with it if I do something she doesn’t like.

Elves apparently had a short childhood. Not like witches, who seemed to take forever to grow up, according to Jenks.

Trent, do you have any weapons? Like a gun?” He looked at me in disgust. “You’re here to protect me,” he said as he closed the distance between us and stood beside me. “You didn’t bring a weapon?” “Yeah, I brought a weapon,” I snapped as I brought my splat gun out and aimed it at the ceiling where the sounds were coming from. “I just thought that since you’re a freaking murderer you might have a gun, too (...)

You think my kids just popped out of the ground?

I grew up reading SF in the 70s and 80s, and I like fast, thought-provoking plots that take you places in fully realized worlds.

He grinned. “That’s because pixies are ever-after. We’re magic, baby. Just ask Matalina.