I’m saying a prayer. Maybe you ought to, too. It’s going to take us a miracle to get through this.” Whether he was serious or not, Claire sent the prayer up toward heaven, and she thought the others did, too. So it seemed kind of miraculous when the doorbell rang. “At least they’re getting more polite when they try to kill us,” Shane said.

He (Michael) was gone in a whisper of air, hardly making any sound at all, and Claire shivered and leaned against Shane’s solid, very human warmth. His arms went around her, and he touched his lips lightly to the back of her neck. “How can you smell this good after the kind of crappy day we’ve had?” “I sweat perfume. Like all girls.

I suppose I’ll have to clean up Freddy’s brains; I hate to leave a mess for the home owners. Hand me that plastic bag; I need to put it over his head to keep him from leaking. Oh, relax, Freddy; I’ll tear an airhole for you.” - Mercer

Sometime, somewhere, life always comes to a fight, and peace always comes to an end.

Michael had to pound me a couple of times to convince me not to go stage a rescue." Shane shrugged. "He hits like a girl, for a vampire.

Yeah, she was hot, all right, but I think she had the hots for you - kept saying how she saw you over at the Waterhouse last year and you were all, like, wow, amazing. It was like a menage a trois, only you weren't there, thank God.

Well," Claire said, "at least we have tacos. Everything goes better with tacos.