Revenge (1)

"Well, I've never met anyone who survived an encounter with the Reaper."

"I came pretty close to not surviving."

"Close doesn't count. You made it. You're alive."

"I guess I am. It seems hard to believe. In fact, I'm not sure I do believe it yet. Any of it. It's like.... like a dream."

He grunted. "I wish it were. For your sake and mine and.... everybody's. How's your throat?"

She touched the bandage self-consciously. "It hurts a little. But it's not serious. The garrote"— she drew a quick breath—"didn't cut very deep."

"Garrote?" He sat on the edge of his desk, leaning forward, and flipped open a memo pad. "Is that the weapon he used?"

"Uh-huh. Why? Does he usually do it some other way?"

"We've never known what the weapon was. I'd assumed it was a knife for, uh, for various reasons. But there was no way to tell."

"Oh. Of course." No heads, she remembered. Her stomach rolled.