So… what? You want me to sign my name in blood or something?”
“Hmmm,” he said, tapping his finger against his cheek as he looked at the ceiling — the epitome of an overly dramatic thinker.
I rolled my eyes.
“Why don’t we just seal it with a kiss?” he suggested, as if the thought of it didn’t gnaw at my intestines.
“Is there a Door Number Two?”
“Well, I could stay at your side every second until Nergal is dead,” he answered. “And before you ask, there is no Door Number Three.

L.J. Kentowski