William Cheney

“I want you to stop working out.  Your fitness levels will continue to improve without effort, and that is one way to slow your fat loss.  I also want you to eat as much high-fat, high-calorie food as you can, like these.”
― John Conroe, God Touched

“Damn,” Stacia agreed softly.  “Sorry, but it was your own fault for calling him a monster,” she directed at the bouncer. “What?  What’s he doing?” the big bald guy asked. “He got your scent, so now he’s tracking down which car or truck is yours,” I said. “What’s he gonna do when he finds it?” Baldy asked. “Well, he kinda ate the last one,” I said regretfully. “What!”  Bouncer man took off into the parking lot at a dead run, pulling a key fob from his pocket as he went.  Almost immediately, Awasos came running from the side of the parking lot, having circled around. “Did you find it?” I asked him. He woofed once softly. “Did you pee on his radiator?” Another woof. “Good boy! Baked-on wolf pee has a half-life of like a year! Let’s go,” I said, ignoring the incredulous looks from the good ole boys.”
― John Conroe, Fallen Stars

“The squad’s leader, Inspector Martin Roma, had been trying for two months to get the new Police Commissioner to learn more about our group. The NYPD Special Situations Squad is off the official org chart, but has been in existence in one form or another for decades. Formed to deal with the unexplainable world of the supernatural, the head of the squad always reports directly to the Commissioner. When the new mayor had swept into office last November on a platform of social issues, he had fired the old Commissioner and brought in his handpicked replacement. Said replacement hadn’t taken his Department of Homeland Security briefing on things that go bump in the night very seriously.”
― John Conroe, Demon Driven

“Twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the federal building that housed the Department of Homeland Security, about fifteen stories up, locked in a standard federal issue interrogation room. Metal chair, metal table, big one-way mirror window, just like the movies. My arms were bound behind me with at least three flex-cuffs. The only addition to the room were the four tactical team members standing in each corner of the room, M4 rifles slung across their chests. Books, Splitter, Data and old Rattler himself, Agent Simmons.”
― John Conroe, Demon Driven