Death is my art form--when I fight, I'm a ballerina. Graceful. Chi lacks my grace, but makes up for it in energy and enthusiasm. His fighting style is like breakdancing--strong and frenetic with some really sweet moves. Jo's is . . .the Macarena. Ugly but gets the job done.

Your death, strange human. I mean, your injury. No murder, just a little maiming. So I can leave. Maiming’s not so bad.

But worries are for people who can’t pull grown men apart with their bare hands.

I eye the three of them, considering. They’ll need a lesson in discretion before I go. Not a lethal lesson. Mom wouldn’t like that.

My teeth rip skin; my jaws snap bones. I am fast, lightning-fast, snuff— oh-was-that-your-life?—oh-was-that-your-life?— fast.

Oooooh, don’t make her mad!” the leader gasps around his laughter.

They say curiosity killed the cat but I am unconcerned. I am smarter, though slightly less evil, than any cat.

A human teenager. One of God’s most misbegotten creatures – big like grown-ups and yet dumb like children.