He had the look of an atheist who’d just had a visit from God: stunned, disbelieving and faintly ill.
A legend is merely a history man decided to bugger.
Then you must be willing to fight,” Mircea responded. “Life is not a gift, Raphael; it’s a challenge. Rise to it!
When good Americans die, they go to Paris,? the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette. But you’re not dead. I suppose the question must be, are you good?
If I’d had enough breath, I would have screamed, both at the sensation and at the sheer pettiness of the bastard who wouldn’t allow me even a tiny chance of escape.
Louis-Cesare slowly pulled himself into a half-standing position against the side of the winery.‘What? Did you think one little mage was going to do me in?’ He swallowed hard. ‘Hell, that was just a warm-up.
Let Daddy help.
When good Americans die, they go to Paris,′ the ghost said, after taking a drag on a small cigarette.
She was the oddest combination of contradictions he’d ever met -innocence and sensuality, candour and diplomacy, anxiety and utter fearlessness. He hadn’t even begun to figure out how her mind worked. But she was damn well going to live long enough for him to try.
My nerves needed a break, not a reminder of how much trouble we were in. I prowled around, but it didn’t help. I still felt like my skin was on too tight.
Fresh blood at midnight isn’t red. It’s a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.
The getup, sort of mad scientist meets Rambo, would have made me smile, except that I believe in showing respect for someone carrying that much hardware.
Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.
No they called it the Codex Merlini because it was written by a guy named Ralph.
So maybe it was just as well that my companion was more like Mulder. A coked-out Mulder with a lot of weapons, who knew that the monsters under the bed were real and would gut you.
Mr. Complete Lack of Sympathy.
I’d been declared – over my loud and sustained protests – Pythia, the chief seer of the supernatural world.
The worst part was the silence. Death was supposed to be loud – gunshots, explosions, screams and thunder. Not this eerie quiet that wrapped around me like a shroud.
I started to duck under the spears, only to have the two vamps on the other wall suddenly appear in my face. Or, at least, their crotches did. Another day, I would have made a cute remark about heat and leather jock straps, but I wasn’t feeling real cute right now.
I looked up to find a slim blond figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. For a frozen second, I looked at him and he looked at me, and then I screamed and threw my coffee, which hit him square in the groin.