“Hello, Officer? Can you help me? My dad got turned into a zombie. You know, we’ve been travelling around getting rid of things that aren’t real, and this time they hit back. I really need someplace to stay – but can you make sure I have some holy water or something wherever it is? And some silver-jacketed bullets? That’d be sweet. Yeah, that’d be totally cool. Thanks. And while you’re at it, can you tell the guys with the straitjackets that I’m really sane? That would help.”

“Dru Anderson: Thanks.Graves: No problem. First one’s free. Look, you really can’t go home? What happened.Dru Anderson: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.Graves: Try me.Dru Anderson: I just can’t go home, not until tomorrow.Graves:Do you need a place to sleep?Dru Anderson: I’ll find somewhere.Graves: I know a place.Dru Anderson: Why is it there’s always a guy who thinks he can get something out of the new girl? Every goddamn town, it’s the same thing. Some guy thinks he’s God’s gift to the displaced.Graves: I just asked if you wanted a place to sleep, Jesus.Dru Anderson: Sorry.Graves: No problem. So, I’ll take you someplace you can sleep tonight. Someplace safe. Okay?Dru Anderson: How much?Graves: I keep telling you, first one’s free. You want to play some air hockey? Good way to get your mind off stuff.Dru Anderson: Sure.Graves: Cool. You finished?Dru Anderson: Yeah, I guess. Graves?Graves: Huh?Dru Anderson: Thanks. Nice gloves.Graves: Hey, you know. Chicks dig guys in gloves.”

“Hi. I’m Dru Anderson. My father went way-out wack after my mom died and now he travels around hunting things that go bump in the night, killing things you can only find in fairytales and ghost stories. I help him out when I can, but most of the time I’m deadweight, even though I can tell you where anything inhuman in this town is likely to hang out. I’m skipping school because I won’t be here in another three months. None of it goddamn well matters.”

“Dru Anderson: You should wear some gloves.Graves: Ruins the image.Dru Anderson: You’ll goddamn well freeze to death.Graves: Hey, we’ve got to suffer for beauty. Chicks don’t go for guys in gloves.Dru Anderson: How would you know?Graves: I know. You never said if you liked shooting pool.Dru Anderson: I don’t, but I’ll beat your ass at it, okay?Graves: Fine. If you can. Dru.”

“I’m probably the only sixteen-year-old girl in a three hundred mile radius who knows how to distinguish between a poltergeist from an actual ghost (hint: If you can disrupt it with nitric acid, or if it throws new crap at you every time, it’s a poltergeist), or how to tell if a medium’s real or faking it (poke ‘em with a true iron needle). I know the six signs of a good occult store (Number One is the proprietor bolts the door before talking about Real Business) and the four things you never do when you’re in a bar with other people who know about the darker side of the world (don’t look weak). I know how to access public information and talk my way around clerks in courthouses (a smile and the right clothing will work wonders). I also know how to hack into newspaper files, police reports, and some kinds of government databases (primary rule: Don’t get caught. Duh).”

“First you find out what you have , Dad would say. Then you figure out how to make it work for what you need, 'cause you don't get what you want. You get just what you have and no more. ”

“Lucas went even paler. “Then you’re on the track to suicide,” he whispered. “Take my advice, Valentine. Run. Run as fast as you can, for as long as you can. Steal whatever bit of life you can. You’re already dead.”