“Wait." Amber jumped up wide-eyed. "Is she a—" "A ghost " I smirked. "Amber you're a necromancer in a show about raising the dead. What did you expect Eerie sounds produced by a computer and a few Hollywood actors in bad makeup Please don't tell me you've never seen a real ghost.”

“This isn't your fight, Patch," I said quietly.His eyes burned with an intensity I'd never seen before. "You're mine, Angel, and don't you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something had happened today? It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing.”

“I tell you, my idea of a ghost is something quite different. Dead men rise up never – read even your poets. Ghosts breed in the living.”

“You're mine, Angel, and don't you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something bad had happened today? It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I can handle the real thing.”

“It took about three minutes for the unassuming Waffle House to become the new offices of the law firm of Amber, Amber, Amber, and Madison. They set up camp in a clump of booths in the corner opposite from us. A few of them gave me an "oh, good, you are still alive" nod, but for the most part, they had no interest in anyone else.”

“She had amber-colored eyes. Or maybe they were blue, and I was confusing their color with her name, which was Amber.”