Because the alternative sucks!

Behind me, Marc made a soft whistling sound, clearly impressed. “That’s not standard procedure,” he said, his tone entirely too reasonable as he leaned over the stray’s body to open the back passenger-side door. “Yeah, well, I’m not your standard enforcer.

I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.

I was fine with that. The very idea of Death knowing my name made my skin crawl. Even if this particular Death was only one of many, and almost too pretty to look at.

Meow, Meow, Motherfucker.

I wanted more firsts with Tod. But all I had left was a handful of lasts.

Uh, yeah, I do. The scythe was a little tricky at first, but—much like golf—turns out it’s all in the swing.