I laughed and it almost felt good. "Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet?" Cam smiled. "That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.

So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it?" "With any luck, yes." Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.

I’d learned that my mother was a badass in disguise. She was Van Helsing in an apron and heels, and—at least for the time being—I couldn’t think of a single thing cooler than that.

Ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you really wanted in the first place.

Should I assume the lure is a certain attractive young dead man?

The dead have a way of becoming saints in the eyes of their survivors.

But all I said, as I dug a five from my pocket to pay for my soda, was, "You have a friend?" Tod scowled. "Well, I wouldn't call him a friend according to the traditional definition, but in the sense that he imposes on me constantly and isn't afraid to point out my flaws, I'd say he qualifies." "Sounds more like a cousin.