728 Quotes About Demons

I must complete my quest or I will die.

She shoved me against the wall, pulling a knife from her belt and pressing it against my throat. “Who are you?” she hissed. I winced as the blade drew a line of blood on my flesh. I considered my options. Queen of the Fallen, no. Enemy to your children, no. “I’m Claire, the Devil’s assistant,” I answered, deciding on the simplest choice.

I headed for my office, but stopped when I saw my laptop on the couch. Sorrel had obviously borrowed it—again—without permission. I grabbed it, wondering what questionable site he’d left on the screen this time and making a mental note to run the anti-virus software. After taking a shower, putting on my pajamas, and fixing an ice cream sundae for dinner—yes, it was one of those days—I sat down at my desk and pulled up the web browser.

I couldn’t just start killing people. That wasn’t really my thing.

Don’t worry,” I said. “We won’t be having slumber parties and spa days any time soon.” “I quite like spa days.

My cheeks still bulging with wine, I properly scoped out the room. Mom? Check. Dad? Check. Ari? Check? Rabbi Abrams, here to perform the ceremony to induct my brother as the latest member in the Brotherhood of David, the chosen demon hunters? Check. I spit the wine back into what I now realized was a silver chalice and handed it to the elderly bearded rabbi. “Carry on,” I told him. Then I threw up on his shoes.

An icy slither ran up my core as I stared at my right hand, its tremors Richter scale violent. Was this my demon-killing ability? Destined to be some supernatural whore luring hell spawn into back alleys for deadly rub and tugs?

Even with all the lights off, the room was as bright and insistent as Martha Stewart’s smile.

The twin desires to both smack the smug off his face and rip off his pants to see for myself should have negated each other and yet, there they were. “Seriously, his stupid reality show Live like a King hits douchebag territory, but a demon?