Hexes and Hemlines Quotes

“Don’t be too nice to him,” I teased. “He’ll never leave.”
― Juliet Blackwell, Hexes and Hemlines

“The cat's not hurting you, Oscar. Get a grip."
"Mistress, make it stop looking at me!"
I pulled up to a stoplight and assessed my posse.
"Cat, stop it. Oscar doesn't want to be your friend." At the sound of my voice, the feline shifted it's gaze to me.
"There," I said to Oscar. "All better."
Keeping its eyes on me, the cat moved with stealthy determination, climbing into Oscar's lap.
"Mistress!"
"Stop it, both of ya'll," I said as the light changed.”
― Juliet Blackwell, Hexes and Hemlines

“He tried the knob. "They locked it back up, though."
"Can't you open it?"
"I'm a psychic, not a wizard.”
― Juliet Blackwell, Hexes and Hemlines

“A man reeled toward us on unsteady feet. He wore jeans and an old pin-striped vest that barely covered his sweaty, hairy beer belly; as he neared I noted the stench of alcohol and body odour. The man's rheumy eyes fixed on me and he gave me a moist leer.
I leaned into Sailor.
My self-appointed bodyguard looked down at me, amused. "How quickly the mighty change their tune," he said in a low voice. Still, he draped his arm around my shoulders and glowered at the drunken man. Then he urged me toward the hotel doors. "let's go, tiger.”
― Juliet Blackwell, Hexes and Hemlines

“The vibrations of an addict are of a very specific sort—they ricochet, out of control, mostly out of reach. The energy called up by the drug quickly disperses, leaving a void, a nothingness. Nature abhors a vacuum, so negative forces rush in, take up residence. The only immediate relief is more narcotics. It must be horrific. “Come in, come in. I’m Senator Jonathan Huffman. You’re welcome here,” said a man in his late sixties, with a booming, commanding voice. He was hale and hearty, a ruddy glow under an expensive haircut. Dressed in a navy blue jacket over khaki pants, he wore an honest-to-gosh ascot at his throat. He exuded wealth and privilege, innate confidence. And an overanxious need to be liked. He had one arm wrapped around a woman similar in age, who was fragile and birdlike, almost lost in her Nancy Reagan–style bright red ensemble. She nodded at us and smiled. “You’re friends of Oliver’s, I presume?” asked the senator. “Oh, hey, Gregory,” said Oliver with a”
― Juliet Blackwell, Hexes and Hemlines