69 Quotes About Rysa-walker

I’m not following any of this, you know. Beecher who?” “Henry Ward Beecher.” Another slug from the bottle. “He’s a preacher. Hey, that rhymes.” Well, that answers any questions about whether the alcohol is working.

Victoria Woodhull and her sister were the 1870s equivalent of the Kardashian sisters.

Kiernan reaches to pull out my chair, but I beat him to it and then nudge the chair across from me out about six inches with my foot. He pulls it out the rest of the way and says, “Thank you, dearest,” in a droll tone before retreating behind the menu.

Kiernan leans forward. “I’m guessing that’s because you can make it work, Mr. Houdini. Maybe that’s how you manage . . .” He pauses when my kick lands on his shin, but finishes the sentence anyway. “. . . some of your more elaborate escapes.

You see, I’ve read Mr. Grumbine’s treatise on auras, and while it does depend on the shade, a green aura can be a mark of deception or dishonesty.” I shoot Kiernan a smug glance. While I’m certain this aura stuff is total bunk, he and Prudence both see the light as green. “Does this Mr. Grumbine say anything about blue auras?” “Again, it depends on the shade. But it’s usually associated with truth.

Kiernan gives him a suspicious look. “You performed at the Expo?” “Yes,” Bess answers. “Along with his brother, Dash. They headlined as The Brothers Houdini on the Midway Plaisance.” “Really?” Kiernan shakes his head. “I was there as well. For the entire run. I knew every headliner on the Midway.” Houdini eyes shift slightly. “Well, we weren’t exactly headliners, but yes, we did perform at the Fair.

I pull my T-shirt over my face and am about to plunge in when it occurs to me that I’m approaching this, as Kiernan would say, far too linearly.

An annoyed huff when he sees Trey suggests Max considers him an add-on rather than true Fifth Column. But he probably thinks the same about me. Too bad we can’t just step aside and let Max save the day.

He pushes his chair back and goes to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” “Yes. I’m thinking Kentucky Fried Rooster.” There’s another chorus of cock-a-doodle-doo just as I finish speaking, and he laughs. “Henry’s just doing his job, love.