There were no windows in my bedroom, so I had to sit up and read my clock to figure out how angry I should be at my visitor. Eight A.M. I hated whoever woke me up. Had they come an hour earlier, I would have also hated their families and any household pets.

And someone, somewhere, was having an even worse time of it than me. I tried to keep that in mind. No matter how crappy your life, someone will probably beat you in the my-life-is-crap category. Not that I don't let myself whine a little now and then, but sometimes it's good to keep your misery in perspective

She whistled when she noticed my back. I assume because of my injuries. I mean, my ass just isn't that spectacular.

Fear, left unchecked, can spread like a virus.

So you're the guy who did the no-no cha-cha with my baby sister.

You know what the great thing about babies is? They are like little bundles of hope. Like the future in a basket.

Pity. What a useless emotion when you don't act on it. Pity is supposed to trigger compassion.

Ramon looked closely at the little guy as he ate. "Maybe he's Jewish. I mean, if Sammy Davis Jr. could convert to Judaism, why not a chupacabra? We should name him Harry Mendelbaum."I held up my arms in protest. "You're all racist. Now shut up. We'll call him Taco von Precious of Svenenstein. There, everybody h

There were upsides to the whole mess. While Douglas was holding me hostage, I’d met a girl—I mean, screw dating websites and house parties; apparently all the really eligible ladies are being held in cages these days. I would have liked to see Brid fill out a dating questionnaire, though. What would she put? “Hi, my name is Bridin Blackthorn. I’m next in line to rule the local werewolf pack. I like long walks on the beach and destroying my enemies. I have four older brothers, so watch your step. We’ll be forming a queue to the left for potential suitors.”And, trust me, there would be a queue.

Don’t you think it’s a bad sign that your best argument for your beau is that nothing has been proved in court?

Aves hasn’t mentioned a boyfriend,” Lock chimed in, “and we’re just dying to hear all about you.” Liar. My friends were filthy lying sadists.

But nowhere in the file had anyone said, “Oh, and by the way, he runs like a gazelle with an espresso addiction.” At least not in the parts I’d skimmed.

You are quite possibly the least smooth guy I know,” she mumbled. “You can’t even put your arm around me without tripping up.

Most people felt lost after high school. Sometimes I felt like I'd never really been found in the first place.

Douglas’s fridge was a stainless-steel masterpiece. I’m not that into appliances or anything, but this one was nice and probably cost more than my last apartment. I had the strange desire to hug it every time I came into the kitchen.

She looked away, trying not to cry. She hated crying, and in public she hated it more.

Mrs. Winalski owned a candy-apple-red 1965 Mustang GT convertible, and she drove it like she could die at any minute and needed to get five things done before that happened.