s*x in death
"He’s not a host; he’s a container that’s about to burst."
"I have to get close," I said.
I started walking toward him, weaving through the commuters. But as I got within ten feet, Miller’s head snapped up. His eyes weren't brown anymore. They were solid, terrifying white.
"You," Miller rasped, his voice vibrating with a power that shouldn't belong to a human. "The Scythe. They sent the Scythe to finish it."
"I'm here to help you, Miller," I said, holding out my hands. "Just stay calm."