If You're Heading Downtown From Centeral Park,

Destroy Them Later?" Cal Offered, Which Was Probably As Close To Friendly As He Ever Got.

The Dead Aren't Scary. They Are Just Sad.

Carter Started Down The Stairs, But I Grabbed His Arm. “hang On. What About Traps?” He Frowned. “traps?” “didn’t Egyptian Tombs Have Traps?” “well…sometimes. But This Isn’t A Tomb. Besides, More Often They Had Curses, Like The Burning Curse, The Donkey Curse—” “oh, Lovely. That Sounds So Much Better.

The Wand Ricocheted Through The Swarm, Thumping Six, Seven, Eight Of The Little Monsters Before Returning To Carter’s Hand. “not Bad,” I Said. “keep It Up!

The Horse Seemed To Bend Time And Space As He Ran, Blurring The Landscape And Making Frank Feel Like He'd Just Drunk A Gallon Of Whole Milk Without His Lactose-intolerance Medicine: "seven Hundred And Fifty Miles Per Hour. Eight Hundred. Eight Hundred And Three. Fast. Very Fast.