What Are You?" I Rasped. It Smiled.

For All His Sourness, He Was Ruled By His Heart.

Maybe I Could Be Friends With A Ghost. I Wouldn’t Be Able To Kill Him.

I’d Given Up On The White Picket Fence After Kisten Had Died—finding Out My Kids Would Be Demons Was The Nail In The Coffin.

I Pushed Him Away, Catching Lee's Awe That I Was Not Only Standing With A Demon Outside A Circle, But That Al Was Treating Me Like An Equal. Or Maybe A Favorite Pet, I Amended As Al Caught Me When I Started To Tilt.

I Wish I Could Say I Write 9-5. It's Usually More Like 8-6, Every Day But The Weekends.