I knew it was likely I would die when I challenged the Eighth Butcher. “Hey hey! Lookit here—this town’s got itself some heroes.”

  “G-G-Get out of h-here.”

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  Death, of a sort, became an inevitability once I became the Ninth. “Now isn’t this surprising. Still able to talk?”

  “I-I m-m-mean it!”

  “Y’know? I don’t think I will.”

  “Die.”

  "Ha! Why don’t you make me, you cocking suck—!”

  What I never expected was to be talked to death.