“But it's not healthy!” replied the Hag. “A mortal and a god sharing the same flesh?”“You know, this isn't why we're here. I can get abuse pretty much wherever.”“Yeah,” sighed the Maid, “but I bet a tenner I can make you cry in half a minute.”

“Someone says 'inauguration' in my line of work, and you can just bet there'll be freaky shit. It's like quests. You get told to 'go forth and seek the travelcard of destiny' and you know, I mean, you seriously know that it won't have just been left down the back of the sofa.”

“You want to know a secret?""Always.""My real name is Dave.""I see.""This doesn't seem to amuse you.""I met Jeremy the troll a few nights ago.""Seriously?""Seriously. Also known as the Mighty Raaaarrggh! Although...I can sorta see why you changed the name. 'Dave' isn't knwon for its mysterious, mystic sexiness.”

“You know, yeah, it seems to me like there are two kinds of chosen one. There's the kinda who gets chosen for a thing without any say, like someone who gets picked- kings and queens and shit. Then there's the other kind of chosen one; the guy who stands up when everyone else is afraid, when no one else can decide. Guy who chooses to fight, or do the thing that no one else will, 'cause it has to be done, yeah? I mean, most times, that guy's a total shit. And sometimes he's the hero. Seems to me that you're a bit of both.”

“If I had to be succinct, I guess I would say that urban magic works on the premise that magic is created by life. And life, these days, is about the underground, the buses, the street lamps, the smell of Chinese take away and the footsteps you half-thought you could hear behind you in the empty car park, but which are gone when you look again.”

“I looked at Judith. "This sounds strange, but I don't suppose you saw three mad women with a cauldron of boiling tea pass by this way?""No," she replied. The polite voice of reasonable people scared of exciting the madman."Flash of light? Puff of smoke? Erm..." I tried to find a polite way of describing the symptoms of spontaneous teleportation without using the dreaded "teleportation" word. I failed. I slumped back into the sand. What kind of mystic kept a spatial vortex at the bottom of their cauldrons of tea anyway?”

“He glanced up as I entered, and for a moment, looked almost surprised."Mr. Swift!""Ta-da!" I exclaimed weakly."You're still...""Still not dead. That's me. It's my big party trick, still not being dead, gets them every time.”