You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.

A kiss for luck, demoiselle?" It is a magnificent, lusty kiss and I feel nothing but deep regret that it may be his last. Just before he pulls away, he whispers in my ear. "Duval said to give you that should I get a chance. It is from him.

I am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life.

I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?

And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.

I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.