Rachel, you summon demons. You’re good at it. Get over it, then find a way to make it work for you. It’s not going to go away.

HAPA was like mint. You could rip it up, and six months later, it was back, healthier than ever. Mint smelled better, though, and you could make juleps out of it. I don’t know what I could make out of HAPA. Compost, maybe.

And I’m not spying! I’m evaluating!” “It’s the same difference!

You should be dead," he said, his voice full of wonder. "How is it that you're still alive?" Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. "I work hard at it.

Nothing is so hard that it can't be found by searching.

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 (...)

Why?" I said, taking the paper from him as Al smiled. "If it's not what I agreed to, I will burn Al's gonads off the first chance I get. Turn around. I need to use your back for a second." "Ah, hold on a tick," Al said, snapping his fingers again and catching the new paper drifting down. "How silly of me. This is the one. Here.