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Who is Hunter Becker? Becker the Gory? Lighthouse Keepers? Boston? I would've preferred Becker the Easiley Surrendering or Becker the Quite Reasonable, but beyond that his name tells me nothing.

Ilona Andrews

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« Barabas pulled Christopher out of the cage. The man stared up at him. “I died, didn’t I? Are you an angel?” “Sure,” Barabas said. “Follow me to the Heavenly Shower »
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Shave that jaw, brush that hair, tone down the crazy in the eyes, and he would have to fight women off with that crossbow.
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It's awful to be rich and mind-boggingly handsome and have women fawn over you. My heart bleeds for you. Poor dear, how do you manage?
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I sighed and put Slayer between the front seats. Stay here. Guard the car. Saiman shut the door. Is the sword sentient? No. But I like to pretend it is.
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They had picked up Julie's scent hit wolfsbane lost her and found her trail again at the crumbling Highway 23 except it was two hours old and mixed with horse scents. She was hitchhiking. Great. Awesome. At least she always carried a knife with her. When I relayed this to Curran he shrugged and said, If she kills anybody we'll make it go away.
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Some people had attack dogs. Ghastek had attack lawyers.
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You’re the most experienced investigator I’ve got who’s not tied up in something, and I can’t ask the Consort to look look into it, because A) she and Curran are working on something else and B) when the Consort gets involved, half of the world blows up.
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Your favorite volhv showed up half an hour ago, complaining about his lack of sleep and stupid gods. He says he brought his Batman belt.
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Our stares connected and we were quiet for a long minute, united by our misery. At least he understood me and I understood him. A fine pair we make,” he said. Yeah.
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you might want to decide fast. We live in a dangerous world. If you see a chance to be happy, you have to fight for it, so later you have no regrets.
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Nobody ever died of being shot by a cookie.
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Syphilis. Lots and lots of magically delicious Syphilis.
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Kate Daniels, trained negotiator. When in possession of some valuable information, give it away to the first sexy man you see with no guarantee of return.
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I do shodo magic,” Dali said. “I curse through calligraphy. I have to write the curse out on a piece of paper and I can’t move while I do it. One smudge, and I might kill the lot of us.” Oh good. “But don’t worry.” Dali waved her arms. “It’s so precise, it usually doesn’t work at all.” Better and better.
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You’re touching me,” I chided him. He caressed my back, sliding his hand down, hitting every sensitive point I hadn’t even known I had. “No, this is touching you. That was just accidental contact.” “Oh? Good to know. If you touch me again and I break your arm off, you can be sure it will be completely accidental.
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Curran and I mixed about as well as glycerin and nitric acid: put us together, shake a bit, and hit the deck as we exploded.
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Perhaps I just wasn't scary enough. Maybe I should invest in some horns or fangs.
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Two years? That's entirely too long. If you want, we can take care of that. After two years it's pure therapy.
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Voshak's hair, a pale blond braid, which he bleached, was his trademark. It made him memorable. That's how the slavers operated. They adopted costumes and personas, trying to make themselves larger-than-life and hoping to inspire fear. They counted on that fear. One could fight a man, but nobody could fight a nightmare.
Ilona Andrews
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When I'm with him, I can feel myself getting better. It's like he's picking up broken pieces of me and putting me back together, and I don't even know he's doing it. We never talk about it. We don't go to therapy. He just loves me and that's enough.
Ilona Andrews