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“Did you know I forged this sword?” Death says, staring down at it in his hand. “One of my many talents. My hands might be deadly, but I assure you they are especially skilled where it counts.”
He will do anything to stop you from making this trade, but it’s already done. You can call me Death. And I will call you mine.”
You don’t even know what fear is, you impetuous mortal. Not yet. I will break you into a thousand little worthless pieces, I will suck your heart through the marrow of your bones, I will take your body, your memories, every ounce that defines you, and grind you into my morning coffee, so that your suffering will give me energy for the day. I will make you beg for death, and even then I won’t grant it to you, all for my own fucking amusement. So go ahead and squander your fear. You’ll need it later. Your life will depend on it.”
“Never trust the living. Never trust a God. And never trust a redhead.” He glances at me. “I’m afraid you’ve already done all three.”
