Why aren't you afraid of me? I've seen my death, and you're not it.

I'd never seen a man who could outshop me, but Jenks was a master.

Boots and leather jackets were strewn on her bed, and what looked like a new knife set. She’d taken a class last winter and was dying to try them out legally on someone.

I didn’t mean now,” he protested. “I’m not going to raise the child. I’m having enough trouble with Rachel.

This is about Ku’Sox, isn’t it,” I said, more of a statement than a question. He made a sighing groan, and I knew it was. “Then you’ve met,” he said, his thoughts clearly on the day-walking demon. “Funny, you don’t look dead.” His hand touched my chin, shifting it so he could see where I’d been pixed, the blisters itchy and red. “I’m surprised you survived the little designer dump. I nearly didn’t.

Dead Witch Walking is basically a modern-day witch living in Cincinnati.

The demon had trouble remembering what she was doing, but she was powerful, sort of the crazy Wendy of the lost lord-of-the-flies boys.