The Lunatic Cafe

I loved him, but love isn't enough. All the fairy tales, the romance novels, the soap operas; they're all lies. Love does not conquer all.

He's no more human than I am, ma petite." At least I'm not dead." That can be remedied.

the pain of that first lost was still raw. You could deal with it, endure it, but never escape it.

If I went in the cage, I was going to end up eaten alive. That was actually one of my top five ways not to die...

I spent the next fifteen minutes convincing a crying werewolf that I wasn’t going to hurt her. My life was getting too strange, even for me.

Anita can speak for herself," Richard said. Jean-Claude's attention flicked back to me. "That is certainly true. But I came to see how the two of you enjoyed the play." "And pigs fly," I said. "You don't believe me?" "Not hardly," I said.

I know that look, Blake. You are a drowning woman, and the only way out is down the aisle.

Ma petite ...' 'No, you've done enough talking. It's my turn. If you harm Richard Zeeman, I'll kill you.' 'He means that much to you?' There was surprise in his voice. Great. 'No, you mean that little'.

At least I'm not dead. That can be remedied. Jean-Claude & Richard

Can you speed this up? I want to get to bed." A slight frown appeared between his eyes. "Anita, you are not making this easy." "Hurrah," I said. The frown smoothed out as he sighed. "You would think I would give up on you ever being easy." "Yes," I said, "you would." Anita and Jean-Claude

A psychologist would have said I was closed off, uncommunicative. Fuck them.

My mug had a reindeer in a bathrobe and slippers with Christmas lights laced in its antlers, toasting the merry season with champagne and saying, “Bingle Jells.

Had Richard really proposed? Had I really said yes? Surely not. I had said yes. Shit.

If I’d been alone, I wouldn’t have eaten at all. I’d have taken a shower, thrown on an oversize T-shirt, and gone to bed surrounded by a few select penguins. Now I had a fancy dinner to eat, by candlelight nonetheless. If I said I wasn’t hungry, would he be insulted? Would he pout? Would he yell about all the work going to waste and tell me about starving kids in Southeast Asia? “Shit,” I said softly and with feeling. Well, hell, if we ever were going to cohabitate, he’d have to know the truth. I was unsociable, and food was something you ate so you wouldn’t die. I

Door’s not locked,” Zerbrowski said. “You’re a cop. How can you leave your car unlocked?” I opened the door and stopped. The passenger seat and floorboard were full. McDonald’s take-out sacks and newspapers filled the seat and flowed onto the floorboards. A piece of petrified pizza and a herd of pop cans filled the rest of the floorboard. “Jesus, Zerbrowski, does the EPA know you’re driving a toxic waste dump through populated areas?” “See why I leave it unlocked. Who would steal it?” He knelt in the seat and began shoveling armfuls of garbage into the backseat.

This was the second time I’d asked about his wife. I seemed to be speaking English, but perhaps my questions were really Swahili and I just didn’t realize it.

safety. I wore a lot of sweaters in the winter, but tonight I’d wanted something dressier, and I was freezing my patooties off,

Richard had scooted in to sit on my left without being asked. He’s a quick study. It’s one of the reasons we’re still going out. That and the fact that I lust after his body something terrible. I

I straightened up, pulling just a little away from him. He looked at me questioningly. “Something wrong?” “Nice aftershave,” I said. No need to confess that I’d had an almost irresistible urge to nibble his neck. It was too embarrassing. The

I wanted to slug him. The desire to smash that beautiful face was physical. It tightened my shoulders, made my arms ache. But I knew better. You don’t volunteer for slugfests with vampires. It shortens your life expectancy. I

I hate you.” My voice was flat with the effort not to scream. In that moment I meant it. And I knew Jean-Claude would sense it. I wanted him to know. “Ma petite…” “No, you’ve done enough talking. It’s my turn. If you harm Richard Zeeman, I’ll kill you.” “He means that much to you?” There was surprise in his voice. Great. “No, you mean that little.” I stepped away from him, around him. Gave him my back and walked away. Let him sink his fangs into that bit of truth. Tonight, I meant every word.

Ronnie sat on the couch, as far away from him as she could get but still rather companiable. Cozier than I was willing to be with the son of a bitch. If I ever managed to get married and my husband cheated on me, it wouldn’t be me to go missing.

His gun was a .357 Magnum, great for whale hunting. It was overkill for anything on two legs. That was human. I felt very human staring down that gun barrel.

Peggy, that’s my wife, she’s a lycanthrope.

I was debating on whether to carry a second gun. A fashion accessory nearer and dearer to my heart than any piece of clothing.

Edward still had the rifle up, sighted on Titus. Aikensen seemed frozen, standing there with the bloody knife. “Put it down, blondie, right now, or she’s dead.” “Edward.” “Anita,” he said. His voice sounded like it always did. We both knew he could drop Titus, but if the man’s finger twitched while he died, I died, too. Choices. “Do it,” I said. He pulled the trigger. Titus jerked back against the bars. Blood splattered over my face. A glob of something thicker than blood slid down my cheek. I breathed in shallow gasps. Titus slumped along the bars, gun still gripped in his hands.