“I'm psychic," she said, and looked at me looking nervously at the lock. "Psychic. Not pshycho. I'm Jazz Parker.”

“I'm up for a Shadow hunt." She tries to let us out, but the lock's stuck. "That's weird.""Is this like an omen?" Daisy asks.Jazz unzips her boot and takes it off so she can slam it at the lock. "It's not an omen." Slam. "Tonight." Slam. "Is going to be great." Slam. "I've got a feeling." Slam. She puts her book back on and looks at us. "Okay, we'll have to climb out of here."She stands on the toilet seat and from there to the toilet-roll holder and then heaves herself over the wall. "Impresive," I say, and then we hear her slam to the ground."Less impressive," Daisy says."It doesn't mean anything," Jazz calls. "Trust me. I'm a psychic.”

“I snuck a look to see how Eric was taking this, and he was staring at me the same way the Monroe vampires had. Thoughtful. Hungry."That's interesting," he said. "I had a psychic once. It was incredible.""Did the psychic think so?”

“I'm ADD and psychic. I know things ahead of time but lose track of which is which.”

“Matthew, exactly how psychic are you?So psychic that other psychics should be called Mattics.”

“I almost had a psychic girlfriend but she left me before we met.”