“Don’t stereotype, Jenks. HAPA is an equal-opportunity hate group,” I said.”

“HAPA was like mint. You could rip it up, and six months later, it was back, healthier than ever. Mint smelled better, though, and you could make juleps out of it. I don’t know what I could make out of HAPA. Compost, maybe.”

“Have any of your clients died?” Ford asked. “Someone you were trying to help?” “Brett,” Jenks said. “Peter?” I blurted out. But the amulet went a negative gray. “Nick,” Jenks said nastily, and the color on the metal disk became a violent shade of purple. Ford blinked, trying to divorce himself from the hate. “I’d say no,” he whispered.”

“Jenks shook his head. "Rache, I really feel bad for her, but Ivy's right. She can't stay here. She needs professional help." "Really?" I said belligerently, feeling myself warm. "I haven't heard of any group therapy sessions for retired demon familiars, have you?”

“Thanks, Edden,” I said, truly pleased that he was sending someone for Jenks not only because now I didn’t have to, but that he’d thought of Jenks at all. “You’re a peach.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, and I could hear his smile. “I bet you say that to all the captains.”

“Jenks, you can fly me up the rest of the way to Trent, and then pow! I give Trent his statue." "Pow, you'll be naked!" Jenks exclaimed.(Rachel and Jenks)”

“CINCINNATI MORGUE, AN EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SERVICE SINCE 1966.”