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No, you just keep crashing my life. Look— I said, and Al grunted. Here it comes, the demon muttered. Listen. Listen to this, runt. She's going to have a list.

Kim Harrison

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Kim Harrison
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Midwest
Wyoming
Dawn Cook
Going
Demon
Life
List
Lists
Runt
Listen
Runts
Comes
Grunted
Keep
Crashing
Look
Muttered
Looks
Als

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Plan B?' Ivy said. 'What is plan B?' Jenks reddened. 'Grab the fish and run like hell,' he muttered, and I almost giggled.
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There is black. There is white. Gray is a cowardly excuse to mix our wants with our needs.
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Newt spun, making her robe unfurl. “He’s my familiar, bought and paid for. I can claim anything of his. Even his life.” Al cleared his throat nervously. “That’s good to know,” he said lightly. “Important safety tip. Rachel, write that down somewhere as lesson number one.
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You need a new hobby, Rachel. Something other than nasty little men with visions of world domination.
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He's going to hurt you, Al said, looking at Pierce. I can take care of you, teach you to survive. Be there for you, even if you do hate me. I shivered. I don't want him, I said, and Al turned away, seeming smaller somehow.
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You cannot thrash the person who makes you coffee. It's a rule somewhere.
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Rachel, my itchy witch, Al said as he tugged the lace at his cuffs. We've talked about this. You simply must stop collecting nasty little men. How many do you really need, love?
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Hovering near panic, trying to focus but finding it hard to open my eyes. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t get enough air, and I couldn’t find the desire to push her away
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Trent looked me up and down. “Is that all you’re going to do?” My pulse quickened, and I gazed at the front of the basilica where the scratching was coming from. “I might have a snack later if nothing comes through those doors.
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She smiled with the warmth of a penguin.
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There were no more choices, no more options, no more clever ways out of a tough situation. And the rush, I realized in a brutal wash of despair, is a false god I’ve chased my entire life. One that cost me everything in the blind search for sensation. My entire existence amounted to nothing.
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The cookie maker needs someone to look out for him.
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Maybe he thinks he can rescue me? No one is that stupid.
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Somehow I found him. Somehow I found Al's sarcastic thoughts, bitter and old. Tired, angry, bored. Alone.
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Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt some sort of dominance foreplay?
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Dead Witch Walking is basically a modern-day witch living in Cincinnati.
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I wish I could say I write 9-5. It's usually more like 8-6, every day but the weekends.
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Five trolls in a dra-a-a-a-ag,' the four-inch man sang from my shoulder. 'Four purple condoms, three French ticklers, two horny vamps and a succubus in the snow.
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Be reasonable. I know you can be. If you try very, very hard.” - Al to Rachel
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Rachel, Rachel, Rachel,” he said, very still and unmoving. “Always jumping to the wrong conclusion. You’re like a frog, you know.
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