Demons exist,' he says simply, as if talking about the weather. 'They are real and they are dangerous. We hunt them when necessary and return them when we can.

— Bill Blais

Down every hall is a gruesome tangle of impossible creatures, and every one of them is split open or strung with barbs or dragging their insides after them, flailing along on shattered limbs or shredded wings or blasted stumps. I’ve got the pistol, half a can of spray and a handful of useless shotgun slugs. I’m dead.

— Bill Blais

I chew the inside of my lip, considering for a second what it would be like to slap this skinny little witch right across her tight-lipped little face. ~Kelly about Sun

— Bill Blais

I know you think I should be home taking care of my family. That maybe I’d be distracted, or I wouldn’t be as committed as the rest of you, but who’s more committed: the person with something to lose, or the people who’ve got nothing left?

— Bill Blais

I’m in a secret underground hideout of a group of monster hunters, filled with magical totems, brass monkeys that move and enough firepower to take over a small country.

— Bill Blais

Mario the Magnificent is Orange!" His eyes sparkle with eagerness as he winks at me.

— Bill Blais

Most people create a destiny of minutiae, of the mundane. They create their own limitations. When the moment comes for them to stretch and leap, they find themselves boxed in, locked down by their own fears.

— Bill Blais

Telling someone like my mother that Hell is a real, physical place, somewhere you can travel to and from, would be like spray-painting the statue of Jesus hanging over the pulpit during mass. Better off telling her the Pope is gay.

— Bill Blais

That thing ruined my favorite T-shirt," complains Mario." Whatever." It’s Marianne’s voice. "You were just looking for a reason to get your shirt off." I try to look around for her, but my neck refuses.

— Bill Blais

The glove suddenly feels much heavier, now, more dense. The rush of power didn’t come through me, but wrapped around me; invisible and strangely empty, like a purely mechanical force. It wasn’t like I just got stronger; it was separate from me, like something stepped in and punched him instead of me. I pull the glove off gingerly, half afraid I’ll punch my own fingers off.

— Bill Blais