"I'm no chef, but hopefully you'll like it," Azrael said, sprinkling on seasoning and flipping the meat.
He put the spatula down and looked at her. "I'm the angel of death," he said, without any preamble. It was usually better that way. "Which means I might be called away at any hour of the day or night, if there is a soul I have to collect. But, and this is important. I cannot kill anyone without being sent. So you are in no danger from me."