"Why would you do that?" Lena asked.
Death tilted his head slightly.
"Curiosity."
"That's not comforting."
"No."
A faint almost-smile appeared.
"You are not scheduled to die for another forty-three years," he said.
"But something pushed your death forward."
"So fix it."
"I could."
His eyes darkened.
"But that would be boring."
Lena stared.
"You're insane."
"Possibly."
The darkness around them began to shake.
Like the world was rejecting something.
Death looked upward.
"They're noticing."
"Who?"
"The ones who enforce the rules."
He stepped closer.
"Decide quickly."
"What happens if I say no?"
"You stay dead."
"And yes?"
"You go back."
Her heart slammed in her chest.
"Why me?"
Death's voice softened.
"Because mistakes interest me."
Then he held out his hand again.
"Deal?"