People always talk about good, fresh country air, but I kept getting wiffs of something that was neither good nor fresh but definitely country.

Mothers are legendary for being able to read the thoughts of their children at just the right moment.

A [reformed] vampire ... mostly tries to make reparation for his previous evil by doing good deeds-most commonly, apparently, going into the crime solving business.

There, close enough to spit on--if I'd been a barbarian and inclined to spit--was the dragon.

They'd poisoned me, dammit. Probably to trade my dead body to the barbarians for Wulfgar's safe return. Or maybe just for the fun of it.

If you don't like vampire games, don't play

Giannine--What are they going to do: smack me on the head with a pamplet?