I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.

Your mortal attachments are like a puppet’s strings," Avari said, both hands clasped casually at his back. "One need only pluck the right cord to make the puppet dance." His smile was almost creepier than his threats. "Dance, reaper!

How is it wrong to put everything you have into getting what you want most in the world?

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.

Apparently the complete works of Shakespeare packed quite a wallop. To think, my mother said I'd never find use for an English degree. Ha! I'd like to see her knock someone silly with an apron and a cookie press.

Great. "So not only am I not-human, but Death is my arch foe?" Who, me? Panic? "Anything else you want to tell me, while we're confessing?

Standing, I turned to face my father. “It’s the same as the scent on Moore. It’s definitely a foreign cat, but it’s...more, somehow.” Ethan snickered at my unintentional pun, but I ignored him.