Excuse me? You're a lady?" "I bought a title on the Internet. I own one square inch of Scotland. And you're changing the subject.

Is this your bedroom?" she asked, and turned to look at him. Myrnin straightened and jammed the big red floppy hat back on his head. The feathers waved back and forth. "Don't get any ideas," he said. "I'm far too young and innocent for that kind of thinking.

Maybe I should, I don't know leave? Because this is starting to sound like one of those reality shows I don't want to be in. Maybe you guys want to take turns in the confessional booth.

Hello! Your dear father is unfortunately very dead," he called. "And you said my dispersal system would never work!

You know what we call pedestrians in Morganville? Mobile bloodbanks.

As I leafed through the book in front of me and watched the dust swirl in the air, I wondered if maybe there was some evil dormant virus in the pages that would infect me, like the mummy dust that used to kill archaeologists. Death by research. That was not a glorious end.

You’re not going to suck.’’ ‘‘Not at the guitar, anyway,’’ Shane said, deadpan. Claire punched him in the arm. ‘‘Ow.