“There were certain elements of the human world that where out of their control: war, inflation, American Idol…all things which could cause major irritation to a vampire’s daily life.”

“Cimil watched Helena disappear into the pawnshop. “Ha! Did I tell you this was gonna be drama-tastic, or what?” she said toward the roof of the car. “Just wait ‘til you see what I have coming next! That vampire’s gonna be so jealous, his head’s going to spin like a Beyblade.”

“For darn certain, that other sensation (which she was not going to think about) was her body telling her the time had come to give away that virginity of hers—just like those size seven jeans in the back of her closet. How unkind to keep something someone else could put to good use. Greedy, greedy girl.”

“Yes, a proud, proud moment in my life. If only that could go on my Facebook timeline!”

“Control, no. This place—I simply do not understand it. The humans here wear giant cocktail glasses around their necks and insert exorbitant amounts of money into little machines that light up. I still cannot understand, however, why they call them ‘slut machines.’ Is because they steal your money?” “I believe the correct name is ‘slot machine.’ They’re kind of fun…”

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive you for turning him into a Demilord before you put him to sleep in your piggy bank?” She shrugged. “Oooh. I hope not. I love conflict—World War Numero Dos…fucking awesome! Can’t wait for number three!”

“She spun to face him. “Listen, Hellboy, we need to make this quick. I have garage sales to hit and naughty souls to claim. Decide.” “I do not understand.” Was this goddess tormenting him for sport? Why did she call him “Hellboy?” How very rude! She poked at his bare chest with a razor sharp fingernail. “You hate taking orders.” Sì, true. After all, I am vampire. “And even if you decided to listen like a good little boy, the odds of pulling this off are slim to none.” I happen to excel at all things impossible. I am a vampire! “So don’t come crying if you end up in your queen’s dungeon…” Vampires do not cry, silly woman. “Tortured three times a day for all eternity, which is where you have a ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent chance of landing if you don’t do exactly as I say.” Actually, those numbers are quite encouraging. He thought his odds were somewhere between pigs flying and hell freezing over. “Buon. I understand. Tell me what you saw, what I must do.”