“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.”

“Hey." Tod squeezed my hand to draw me out of my thoughts. "I think death looks good on you.”

“And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca." "A death detector?" Tod made a face. "That's creepy." "It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie." "On purpose?”

“Near-death experiences release a lot of endorphins, resulting in a natural high," Tod whispered. "And it's totally true that one passion feeds another." "You know we're way past 'near-death', right?" "My endorphins aren't listening to you.”

“I’m sick of white walls and endings. The only thing that doesn’t end in this place is me. I don’t end. I just go on, and on, swinging that scythe glued to my hand. There’s no rhythm to the strokes. Few see death coming, and even those who do see death don’t see me. Because there is no me. Not anymore. Always the reaper, never the reaped. Soon that won’t bother me. Soon I won’t care. Emotional death follows physical death at a different pace for each reaper. I’ve put it off for more than two years, but it’s inevitable.”

“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?”

“Tod's pale brows arched halfway up his forehead, and he looked suddenly, achingly wistful. "She knows not what she says..."Maybe not. But I was starting to get a pretty good idea...”