Evil Must Always Be Fought.

A Cowboy, A Lawyer, And A Mechanic Watched Queen Of The Damned,” I Murmured. Warren—who Had Once, A Long Time Ago, Been A Cowboy—snickered And Wiggled His Bare Feet. “it Could Be The Beginning Of Either A Bad Joke Or A Horror Story.” “no,” Said Kyle, The Lawyer, Whose Head Was Propped Up On My Thigh. “if You Want A Horror Story, You Have To Start Out With A Werewolf, His Gorgeous Lover, And A Walker.

When I Die Of Heart Failure The Next Time You Frighten Me Like That, You Can Put That On My Gravestone —‘i Didn’t Mean To Startle Her

If You Could Just See Your Face,” She Told Me. “you Look Like A Cat In A Bathtub.

Don’t Try Threatening An Alpha. They Don’t Like It.

His Grandfather Had Often Told Him That He Tried Too Hard To Move Trees When A Wiser Man Would Walk Around Them.