Okay," I said. "I'd hoped to avoid this, but... Bill, I rescind your invitation into my house." Bill began walking backward to the door, a helpless look on his face, and my brush still in his hand. Eric grinned at him triumphantly."Eric," I said, and his smile faded. "I rescind your invitation into my house." And backward he went, out my door and off my porch. The door slammed shut behind (or maybe in front of?) them.

I don't like this.""I know you don't, my little spaetzel. But I am too worn out to run from both the police and your murderous twin, and Damian's looking peaky, plus Christian did apologize for trying to kill us earlier.""I wasn't talking about that. It's your lamentable habit of using completely unsuitable love names for me that gives me grief," Adrian groused. "I am not a lambypie, nor am I a spaetzel.

Ugh," he said after a few swallows. "Dead blood." Jace's eyebrows went up. " Isn't all blood dead?" "The longer the animal whose blood I'm drinking has been dead, the worse the blood tastes," Simon explained. "Fresh is better." "But you've never drunk fresh blood. Have you?" Simon raised his own eyebrows in response. "Well, aside from mine, of course," Jace said. "And I'm sure my blood is fan-tastic.

I believe he's been asked to testify today," I told Lennox, who'd continued to track Truman's progress through the room. "He's a member of the historical undead, Truman Capote, the author. He wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood."..."Hi, Truman, you're sitting next to me," I said, pulling out his chair. I figured after he'd asked me to suck on his cherry, we should be on a first-name basis.

No—I’ve got it,” Jill announced, interrupting my musing. “He’s a vampire.” I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. “Seriously, it makes sense. He’s always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won’t bite them....Maybe that’s what he’s doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.

Now, what would you like for dinner? Steak? Chicken? I, for one…I am thinking…Chinese.”Stunned, Jenera stopped and looked between Nylora and Aleta, “Uh…I don’t think you mean sweet and sour pork, right?”The older handmaiden laughed heartily, “You catch on quick, my lady.” She winked, “Nothing says delicious like a short Chinese man in a darkened alley to whet my appetite.

…We were born vampires.""I thought you became –""— vampires by being bitten? Dear me, no. Oh, we can turn people into vampires, it’s an easy technique, but what would be the point? When you eat… now what is it you eat? Oh yes, chocolate… you don’t want to turn it into another Agnes Nitt, do you? Less chocolate to go around."He sighed. "Oh dear, superstition, superstition everywhere we turn.

When she first saw him, she took him for a ghost. His jet-black hair fluttered in the breeze as he walked, letting her see his eyes. They seemed haunted, lost in some way. He was tall and gaunt, starkly pale in his black clothes. He was the very picture of Anton, even sharing his world-weary eyes of deepest blue. She could hardly look away from this apparition, an echo of all the memories and dreams that had haunted her these many years.

I did not think you would be this impressed with my visit. I should come to see you more often.""Oh Fredrick," she said, not amused. "I am so glad to see a familiar face.""Is that all? A familiar face?" He let out a sigh. "For a minute I thought you'd missed me."She let go of him and stood back to swat him playfully on the arm. "Do not play with me, Fredrick. Of course I missed you. You have been away from my company for far too long.

You may stay. But Jessica, please watch what you say and do. Don't look them in the eyes for long. Speak only when spoken to. Yes, sir; yes, ma'am.""Sit up. Arf," I teased."What about her?" Jessica cried, pointing in my general direction. "She's more in need of an etiquette lesson than I am.""Yeah," I said, "but I'm the Queen. With a capital fucking Q. Hey, you're looking me in the eyes for too long! Eric, make her stop!

Here's what vampires shouldn't be: pallid detectives that drink Bloody Marys and work only at night; lovelorn southern gentlemen; anorexic teenage girls; boy-toys with big dewy eyes. What should they be? Killers, honey. Stone killers that can't get enough of that tasty Type-A. Bad boys and girls. Hunters. In other words, Midnight America. Red, white and blue, accent on the red. Those vamps got hijacked by a lot of soft-focus romance.

Oh come on,'Pheobe continued. 'You're asking for it. Pale skin, black clothes, no lunch and that whole brooding thing? It's hilarious. You should get body glitter and go after an unsuspecting freshman.''You should!' Cassidy agreed. 'Tell her you're a dangerous monster. And mention how good her blood smells.''Wrong time of the month on that one, and I'm getting slapped,' I muttered, and everyone laughed.

The Rakshasa," said Percy pedantically, "are a different breed altogether from our vampires. Much in the same way that poodles and dachshunds are different breeds of dog. Rakshasas are reviled in India. Their position as tax collectors is an attempts by the crown to integrate them in a more progressive and mundane manner."Rue said, "Oh, how logical. Because we all know ordaining someone as a tax collector is the surest way to get them accepted by society.

I'm just being practial. I knew someday I might have to bare my throat to you. Pete and I discussed that very possibility. As for the danger and risk taking, that's what Pete pays me to do. And you and I both know he inteneds to get his money's worth."Jasmine, I cannot-"Why not!"Because you are not food!"I stared at him for a minute; the I started to grin. I couldn't help it.Vayl"-I tried to keep my face straight- "I'm not asking you to eat me.

He curled up, twitching and spasming, the pain stormtrooping through his entire body in agonizing, dizzying, pounding waves. He vomited, but it wasn’t the contents of his stomach. It was his stomach, hanging inside-out from a slimy loop of esophagus, spilling out the precious blood he’d been digesting. Even with everything going on, the smell of blood activated his biting reflex, and he chomped down on his own regurgitated organs, screaming as he chewed.