“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).”

“Graves: Are you skipping? Off to a good start.Dru Anderson: I don’t want to deal with it today.Graves: Okay. I know a place to go. You shoot pool? I’m Graves.Dru Anderson: I know. Dru.Graves: Dru. You’re new. Couple of weeks, right? Welcome to Foley.”

“People don’t really want to know anything about you. They just want to put you into their little preordained slots. They decide what you are in the first two seconds, and they only get nervous or upset if you don’t live up to their snap judgements. That’s the only way the normal world’s like the Real – it all depends on who people think you are. Figure that out, play to what they expect, and it’s clear sailing.”

“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.”

“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.”

“I just . . . knew, the way you know how to breathe or to pull your hand back from a hot stove.”

“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.”