“Yes. Hold on.” She pulled out a handful of pink tickets and recited from memory, without checking the paper. “Seven forty-two a.m., Mr. Gasparian: I curse you. I curse your arms so they wither and die and fall off your body. I curse your eyeballs to explode. I curse your feet to swell until blue. I curse your spine to crack. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Bleeds
“What are you doing?” Ghastek asked.
“My hole puncher broke.”
“You have no respect for the undead.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Burns