I swear to you, by my own stunning good looks and towering ego, that I am not lying to you.

God save me from idealists.

Now I feel like James Bond. Suave and intelligent, breaking all the codes while looking fabulous.

I'm amazing and studly, but I have limits.

I'm so pretty, it's hard for me to think of myself as intelligent.

Let's get something clear up front. I'm not Harry Dresden. Harry's a wizard. A genuine, honest-to-goodness wizard. He's Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull, with a big leather coat and a .44 revolver in his pocket. He'll spit in the eye of gods and demons alike if he thinks it needs to be done, and to hell with the consequences -- and yet somehow my little brother manages to remain a decent human being. I'll be damned if I know how. But then, I'll be damned regardless. My name is Thomas Raith, and I'm a monster.