Myrnin turned away to pick up his Ben Franklin spectacles, balanced them on his nose, and looked over them to say, "Don't do drugs. I feel I ought to say that.

You have not been sticking your dirty fingers in my sauce,’’ Eve said, and pointed her wooden spoon at him. He quickly took the finger out of his mouth. ‘‘First off, they’re not dirty. I licked them first.

Where's your sense of adventure?" "Off on a beach somewhere with your sanity?

She can go with us to the lab and keep Myrnin pinned down while we pull the plug, if he's not... you know, better." "Define BETTER with that guy." "Not all fangs and raaaaar.

Who's Myrnin?" Claire controlled an urge to roll her eyes. "Badass crazy vampire scientist who's my boss." "You realize no part of that sentence made sense, right?

She was starting to feel a little like a hamburger at a dieters’ convention. Nobody was likely to snack on her, but absolutely everybody noticed she was edible.

Survival," I said softly. "It's selfish, and it's dark, and we've always been a species willing to do anything to satisfy our needs. Individuals have morals. Mobs have appetites.