[Iris] squeezed his hand. "Don't lose hope, Frank. Rainbows always stand for hope.

Hope," Frank grumbled. "I'd rather have a few good weasels.

Why would Roman gods want to date Chinese Canadians?

Would Grandmother scold him? Would she say, “Frank! Thank the gods, you've come. I'm surrounded by monsters.”
More likely she'd scold him, or mistake them for intruders and chase them off with a frying pan.

Hazel squinted. "How far?"
"Just over the river and through the woods."
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? To Grandmother's house we go?"
Frank cleared his throat. "Yeah, anyway.

At the end of the warehouse was a dais constructed from pallets of books: stack of vampire novels, walls of James Patterson thrillers, and a throne from about a thousand copies of something called The Five Habits of Highly Aggressive Women.