“She’s standing above me the goddess of death, black lips and cold hands.”

“I peek over the back of the couch and there she is, my goddess of death, her hair snaking out in a great black cloud, her teeth grinding hard enough to make living gums bleed.”

“You do know what we’re dealing with here, don’t you?” I ask. “She’s not just a ghost. She’s a hurricane. Overkill is fine by me.”

“I love her.” “She’s dead.” “That doesn’t mean to me what it does to other people.”

“I’m not afraid. Despite the searing between my eyes andthe knowledge that something is coming for me, somethingthat could easily rip out my spleen and pop it like a waterballoon, I am not afraid. She’s with me. She’s my purposeand we’re going to save each other. We’re going to saveeveryone. And then I’m going to convince her that she’ssupposed to stay here. With me.”

“She’s like Bruce Lee, the Hulk and Neo from The Matrix all rolled in to one.”

“She crossed over death to call me. I crossed through Hell to find her.”