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Why couldn't she have gotten another Edger or some dimwit from the Broken for a passenger? No, she got Lord Leather Pants here.

Ilona Andrews

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Ilona Andrews
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Secret to what? Secret to shutting you up, he said. I just have to beat you till you're half-dead, then give you chicken soup and--he raised his hands--blessed silence.
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You fellows ever thought of hiring out as a Christmas lights crew? You’d make a fortune.
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Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Every time I look at you, I have to put a leash on myself. “No.
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She could've stared into those eyes for a thousand years and never noticed the time passing by.
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Outside the windows the day was bright: golden sunshine, blue sky, pleasant wind . . . I wanted to punch the happy day in the face, grab it by the hair, and beat it until it told me what the hell it was so happy about.
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Oh no, is it naked time?
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Butterflies were small and light, and very magic sensitive. For some reason I made them feel safe and they gravitated to me like iron shavings to a magnet. They ruined my ferocious badass image, but you'd have to be a complete beast to swat butterflies.
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I just had to stay cool. Zen. No punching in the face. Punching would not be Zen.
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I chuckled to myself and kept walking. The Universe had proven Curran wrong: a person who aggravated him more than me did, in fact, exist.
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She handed him a glass of water and two Aleve gelcaps. “They’re anti-inflammatories. They will dull the pain a little bit and keep down swelling and redness. Swallow the pills, don’t chew.” “Well, I thought I’d stick them into my nose and impersonate a walrus, but if you insist, I’ll swallow them.
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