" What kind of sick bastard burns down a Christmas tree?”

Hugh and I exchanged glances. “That’s an excellent question,” I said dryly.

Peter looked startled. “Was it you?” he asked Hugh.

“No,” said the imp. “It was Carter.”

“Your Christmas tree was burned down by an angel?” asked Cody.

“Yup. The irony isn’t lost on me "

― Richelle Mead , Succubus Dreams (Georgina Kincaid, #3)