Oh, Claire," he said. "You think me a far better man than I am. That's kind, and flattering." "Are you saying that you -" "Doughnuts!" Myrnin interrupted her and darted away, to zip back in seconds with an open box.

You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.

(Djinn are essentially vapor.) "I blew him away.

Michael patted him on the shoulder. “I like this plan,” he said. “You and Eve, picking up cake and flowers, and you can’t even say a word. Should be tons of fun.” Shane almost choked, and gave Michael a sideways glare. Michael sent him a hundred-watt smile in return—no fangs, which was probably for the best.

Promise me, Amelie, that you’ll crucify me with silver before you allow me to fall in love.” “I hardly think there’s any chance of that,” Amelie said. "I doubt you have the capacity.

God, it was hot! Forget about frying an egg on the sidewalk; this kind of heat would fry an egg inside the chicken.

You're just full of awesome; did you know that?