You look like you belong in a bad comic book,” I told him cheerfully.
----------------------
“What did the Drakes do that’s got you all pissy?”
“Pissy? Did you just call me pissy?

He went farther into the shadows to exchange his pants for the leather breeches. Too bad. When he emerged again, he looked pretty good even though it wasn’t his style. And he was lucky there were no tights, after all. He tilted his head.
'You like it.'
'Shut up.' I blushed. I hated vampire extrasensory perception. It wasn’t fair that he could hear my heartbeat or smell my skin or what ever.
'Girls are so weird.'
Kieran snorted. 'No kidding.'
'Please, you two were fighting ten minutes ago, and now you’re the best of friends?' I said witheringly. 'Guys are weird.

Your eyes.”
“What? What?” I scrubbed at them violently, horrified at the thought they might have those gross goopy things at the edges. Or were they even more bloodshot? I’d heard of that happening, where the whites ran with blood.
“I think . . . the color’s changing.” He paused. “Is that even possible?”
“Is that all? Now you’re the one scaring the crap out of me.

You’ll have to turn your back.”
He turned slowly. The view from the back was just as good as the view from the front. I could practically hear Lucy snickering in the back of my head. I might be the vampire daughter, but she was the one who was a bad influence. No question.

We have the same symptoms as tuberculosis, especially in the eyes of the Romantic Poets. Pale, tired, coughing up blood.”
“That’s romantic?”
I had to smile. “Romantic with a capital ‘R.’ You know, like Byron and Coleridge.”
He gave a mock shudder. “Please, stop. I barely passed English Lit.”
I snorted. “I didn’t have that option. One of my aunts took Byron as a lover.”
“Get out.”
“Seriously. It makes Lucy insanely jealous.”
“That girl is . . .”
“My best friend,” I filled in sternly.
“I was only going to say she’s unique.

Do we have a plan?'
'We fight like hell.'
'Good plan.