Twenty-three stories up and all I could see out the windows was grey smog. They could call it the City of the Angels if they wanted to, but if there were angels out there, they had to be flying blind.

Silk didn't care if it slid over scars or smooth, untouched skin. I'd earned my right to be paranoid.

A girl could never have too much jewelry or too much weaponry.

He gave a small nod, and I smiled back, and that was it. He understood that I'd understood that he'd understood. It took us one sentence, two looks, and a nod - with another woman it would have been at least five minutes of out-loud talking. Lucky for me I spoke fluent guy.

If you only believe when it's easy, you don't really believe.

I know who and what I am. I am the Executioner, and I don't date vampires. I kill them.

If they cheat, can I shoot them?