“My neighbor raised a shaking index finger to point at the saguaro. "That moving cactus...and the big bug...and you, you spooky bastard. What are you?I stuffed my hands in my pockets and grinned winningly at him. "Why, I'm the Antichrist, of course.”

“I’ll stab you with a pointy thingy. Not a sword, a knife, or even a mountaintop. No, I’ll use my index finger—and just to make a point about violence.”

“He promptly pulled out a cigarette stuck it between his lips and lit it. I reached over and snagged it from between his lips and put it out.I pointed my index finger at him. “You will not suck on this death stick in my presence,” I huffed. Sloane to Siva”

“You're dead," I repeated. "So why are you in my dream?"He raised the bill of his olive drab ball cap with one finger. " Good question. Morbid, isn't it?""What?""Dreaming about dead peolpe. Creepy. You ever see a therapist about that?""I'm not -" Even in dreams, I couldn't win an argument. Even when he was dead.”

“I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice. 'If you could change one thing, what would it be?'He pulled the sheep pendant from his pocket. A question filled his eyes. I held out my hand. Riley placed it in my palm and I curled my finger around the necklace, pressing the metal into my skin.”

“I laughed as I twisted to face him and raised my arm to hit in one move. He caught my wrist and my laugh caught in my throat. A mischievous grin curved my mouth as I raised my other hand to hit him. He reached over me and caught that wrist too, gently pinning my arms above my head as he straddled my hips. The space between us boiled my blood.”