17 Quotes by S.A. Hunt

One tub held baby-food jars emptied of their contents and refilled with alcohol. Another tub contained handfuls of stacked twigs, another was full of something that might have been ginger root, or perhaps bits of wild mushroom.

Look, the witches were one thing—she’d been fighting monster-faced hags for a couple of years at this point, gnarled old witches and chubby-cheeked bohemians that could Force-throw furniture like Carrie, fill your car with snakes, and turn themselves into raving gorgons.

You killed twen-ty witches. Twennnnnty! Ah - ah - ah - ah - ah.”She smirked at his impression of the Count. “About twenty. Nineteen, maybe? I’ve kicked the shit out of a lot more people than that, though.

One last place we haven’t checked. There’s a closet out here on the landing you can sleep in, if you can fit.”“A closet?”“Yeah, like Harry Potter.” “Harry Potter lived under the stairs.

She wore nothing but a pair of gray panties and even inside the van, warmed by her farts and body heat all night, the air was graveyard-clammy, so she knew the late autumn morning outside would require something a little more substantial than usual.

He settled on a classic rock station—Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night, Heinrich would have liked that—and he looked to her for approval.

On a squat wooden pedestal was a flatscreen television that would not have been out of place on the bridge of a Star Trek spaceship.

Lot of Black folks, we talk about bein’ invisible, you know—white people, they can look right through you, like you ain’t even there. I judo that shit, right? I make it work for me. I’m like a ninja, I vanish. Ali said float like a butterfly. One minute I’m there, the next, I ain’t. Ain’t nothing but burnt rubber and a little bit of Forever Red in the air.

Across the street from the van was a board fence. Someone had spray-painted incomprehensible graffiti on it—could have been an ambigram for all she knew, legible upside-down as well as right-side-up.