Witches, he thought. Always rhyming.

What gave it away? When she loaded me bound and gagged into the back of her truck? Or when she actually said. "I'm ready to kill you and throw your body inn the swamp?"Hey for a while there, it looked like you were going to talk your way out of it. I didn't want to interfere.

Witch' is just a religion, okay? No baby-sacrificing, no Black Masses, no sending imps out to scare the dog-snot out of kids, trying to make them think they're crazy. We don't do things like that. Our number-one law is 'Have fun in this lifetime, but don't hurt anybody.'Nice little paraphrase of "An it harm none, do as ye will" if I do say so myself.

That’s literally one of those things where if I tell you I have to kill you. A witch’s wand is a powerful tool and could be disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands.

You don’t have any balls?’ For once I wasn’t trying to be insulting.

My problem wasn’t that he was a vamp, or that he was gay. I didn’t like him because he was a politician.

The book did not say anything about a statue, valuable or otherwise, and so I stopped reading about the Bombinating Beast and got interested in the chapter about the Stain'd witches, who had ink instead of blood in their veins. I wondered what they kept in their pens.

I took a step back, shaking my head, wishing I could place a gnarly black hex on him. My daddy taught me better than that.

Something soft turn to stone within her. She had no choice. She had to fight. She had to win. She would learn. And then she'd free them.Or join them.

In his refusal to believe in anything supernatural or inherently evil, he was as unrealistic as an old voodoo queen who sees spirits everywhere.