Charlie is one of the big good guys in my universe.

Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously creepy. This one's name was Constantine. We'd met before.

With the knowledge of her aloneness came a rush of self-declaration: “I will not be nothing.”

My capacity for invention is flash hot stark, I thought. Sucker sunshade. Disembodied radar-reconnaissance. Not to mention Bitter Chocolate Death and Killer Zebras. Pity about the rest of me.

She poured the water, arranged some bread near enough the embers to scorch but not catch fire, and looked up at Little John. She was so accustomed to his step, to his bulk, that it took a moment to notice his face; and when she did . . . It was, she thought, rather like the moment it took to realize one had cut one's finger as one stared dumbly at the first drop of blood on the knife-blade. You know it is going to hurt quite a lot in a minute.

The insides of our own minds are the scariest things there are.

the touch of evil poisons by the idea of it. Reject the idea, and you've rejected the evil