You need me, just whistle," he said as he arranged his ball cap over his eyes against the sun leaking through the frost-emptied branches. "You're not coming?" Lifting the brim of his cap, he eyed me, "You want me to?" he asked blandly. "Not really, no." He dropped the brim and laced his hands over his middle. "Then why are you bitching? It's a crime scene, not a grocery store.

Typical" Kisten said, his eyes dramatically sad. "Try to do something nice for a person, cheer her up, and what do I get? Abused and robbed.

Looking at everything, I started to feel nauseous, as if the seventies had taken refuge here against extinction and were preparing to take over the world.

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

Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” he said, very still and unmoving. “Always jumping to the wrong conclusion. You’re like a frog, you know.

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.

Al was standing a bare three feet away, his mood almost jovial as he took the paper and it vanished in a wash of black sparkles. “Thank you, Rachel,” he said, carefully reaching for my hand as Trent stiffened. “Welcome back, my itchy witch.