“Genevieve hunched her shoulders against the storm of sound and fury and struggled to imagine a worse sort of hell. Widdershins, of course, seemed perfectly happy, but Widdershins was weird.”

“The front door of the Flippant Witch gave a series of loud clicks and swung inward. Renard Lambert, his blue-and-purple finery resembling a plum in the twitching lanterns, practically hurled himself through the open doorway“Widdershins!” he called loudly, cape flowing behind him, “I—gaaack!” He ducked, barely in time to avoid the carafe that shattered loudly against the wall just behind his head. The tinkling of broken glass, a dangerous entry chime indeed, sounded around him.“Oh,” Genevieve said, her tone only vaguely contrite. “It's just your friend. Sorry, Renard.”“Sorry? Sorry?! What the hell were you—ah. Um, hello, ah, Widdershins."Widdershins, who had lurched to her feet as the door opened, was suddenly and forcibly reminded by Renard's stunned stare that Genevieve had disrobed her in order to get at the rapier wound. Blushing as furiously as a nun in a brothel, she ducked behind her blonde-haired friend and groped desperately for her shirt.“Didn't mean to take your head off, Renard,” Genevieve said, mainly to distract him. “But you rather startled us.”“Quite understandable,” the popinjay responded absently, his eyes flickering madly as he fought to locate some safe place to put them.”

“A black cat crossed my path, and I stopped to dance around it widdershins and to sing the rhyme,Ou va-ti mistigri?Passe sans faire de mai ici.”

“He half expected another argument. A struggle of some sort. Again, a surprise. She made that soft, hungry sound that had already emblazoned itself in his senses, she put her hands on his shoulders, and she kissed him back, her tongue sliding against his.”

“Romantic googling can be as dangerous as drunk text messaging. Of course hell hath no fury like a woman who Google-bombs her old flames name with a word like "impotent.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman deprived of her toiletries.”