What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier, #1)

by T. Kingfisher

I’m not, for the most part, an imaginative soul. Put me in the most haunted house in Europe for a night, and I shall sleep soundly and wake in the morning with a good appetite.

When we had exhausted ourselves mangling popular tunes, he played dramatic compositions by great composers. (Mozart? Beethoven? Why are you asking me? It was music, it went dun-dun-dun-DUN, what more do you want me to say?)

It is very unpleasant to sit down to a meal when you are trying to determine which one of your breakfast companions is a murderer.