Eric

“I had a chance at him now. Things were a bit more even. He knew my name, I knew his. He had six years' experience, I had five thousand and ten. That was the kind of odds that you could do something with.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand

“Uh... ," Ivy stammered, and I glanced up to see her eyes wide in consideration.
"I'm kidding," I said. "It passed the lethal-amulet test, remember?"
"Not that. You keep it in your underwear drawer?"
I hesitated, wondering why I was embarrassed. "Well, where do you put your elven magic?" I asked.”
― Kim Harrison, Black Magic Sanction

“Oh, good, it worked,” Archer said, his ghostly face relieved. Unlike Elodie, his voice came in loud and clear, and so familiar that my heart broke all over again.
I stood frozen, my back against the door. Even though he was faint, I could see him smirk.
“Um…Mercer? Haven’t seen you in nearly a month. I was expecting something like, ‘Oh, Cross, love of my heart, fire of my loins, how I’ve longed—’”
“You’re dead,” I blurted out, pressing a hand against my stomach. “You’re a ghost, and you think—”
All the humor disappeared from his face, and he held up both hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not dead. Promise.”
My heart was still hammering. “Then what the heck are you?”
Archer almost looked sheepish as he reached inside his shirt and pulled out some kind of amulet on a thin silver chain. “It’s a speaking stone. Lets you appear to people kind of like a hologram. You know. ‘Help me, Sophie-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.’”
“Did you steal it from the cellar at Hecate, too?” Archer had collected all sorts of magical knickknacks back when we had cellar duty at Hex Hall.
“No,” he said, offended. “I found it at a…store. For magical stuff. Okay, yes, I stole it from the cellar.”
― Rachel Hawkins, Spell Bound

“Watch where you leave your victims! I stubbed my toe on that.”
― Jonathan Stroud, The Amulet of Samarkand