“You don’t return your phone calls.” The vampire leaned forward, tapping my doodle with a scimitar claw. “Is that a lion with horns and a pitchfork?”“Yep.”“Is he carrying the moon on his pitchfork?”“No, it’s a pie. What can I do for Atlanta’s premier Master of the Dead?”

“The vampire leaned forward, tapping a scimitar claw. "Is that a lion with horns and a pitchfork?""Yep.""Is he carrying a moon on his pitchfork?""No, it's a pie.”

“Is that a lion with horns and a pitchfork?""Yep.""Is he carrying the moon on his pitchfork?""Nope it's a pie.”

“Kate, perhaps you need to explain to your significant other that he is in no position to give me orders. Last time I checked, his title was Beast Lord, which is a gentle euphemism for a man who strips nude at night and runs around through the woods hunting small woodland creatures. I'm a premier Master of the Dead. I will go where I please.”

“I'll call you," he repeated."If you call me, I won't pick up the phone.""You will wait by the phone for my call, and when it rings, you will pick it up and you will speak to me in a civil manner. If you don't know how, ask someone.”

“Curran roared. The blast of noise erupting from his mouth was like thunder. I clenched up, fighting the urge to step back. “Yes I can,” he snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.” I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.”

“Yes I can,” Curran snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.”I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.”