“I heard the telltale sound of scales scraping against metal--a light swoosh, a tongue flickering out to taste the stale and humid air. Whatever it was, my prey was tasting for me.”

“I sunk into velvety nothingness. It caressed my skin, lapped at my temples, the nape of my neck. It circled me like smoke, its touch light, but all consuming. And just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard the voice. 'Hello, Kali. I'm Zev.”

“What I really needed wasn't a dose of school spirit; it was a glass of water, an aspirin the size of my fist, and the answers to the history exam that I hadn't studied for the night before. "As long as I'm dreaming," I muttered, my words lost to the cacophony of the gym, "I'd also like a pony, a convertible, and a couple of friends.""That's a tall order." I'd known that there were people sitting next to me, but I couldn't begin to imagine how one of them had heard me. I hadn't even heard me. "Would you settle for a piece of gum, an orange Tic Tac, and an introduction the the school slut?”

“....And b-t-w, if anyone asks you what's in the box, I'd say 'feminine supplies.'"The box was large and heavy, and there was a distinct clanging sound as I carried it. "As in tampons?""Keely's not going to ask questions. Ali's busy with the twins, and everyone else around here is male. Tampons scare the bejeezus out of them, my dad included, but if the person who asks is a Were, they'd smell a lie. Hence, feminine supplies.""Because we're females, and they're our supplies?" I guessed. "No. Because weapons are feminine." Lake gave me an insulted look. "Why do you think I named my gun Matilda?”

“I'm Chase." he said."Kind of an ironic name for a werewolf." The observation slipped easily off my tongue. The boy didn't blink. In fact, I was beginning to doubt that he'd blink once since I'd come into the room. "Werewolves do a lot of chasing." I explained."And your name is Chase. Hee.”

“Left with nothing but my own bloody fingertips, I let out a war cry of my own, raked my nails over its face, and fought like a girl.”

“Rather than sleeping myself, I practiced. I practiced taking everything I'd seen in the last few days-every horror, every drop of blood-and locking it away, so deep in my mind that I could pretend that nothing had happened.And then I practiced letting it out.This time, I didn't start with a specific memory. I didn't walk myself step by step through a scene. Instead, I built a room inside my head-a tiny room with white walls and no windows and no doors. No way out.In that room, I put the sound of screams, tearing flesh, and heavy breathing, the smell of rancid blood. Everything I'd been holding back, everything threatening to devour me whole was there-in the ceiling of that room, the corners, the floor.”