"I'm sorry," Marian frowned, the idea of having to walk through death alone a bleak one. But that was how so many had to do it, wasn't it? Death for many was a solitary path. "I've been fortunate enough to have never died. Almost a lot of times, probably should have died quite a few, but so far I've always slipped free."
She'd thought with the demon a few months ago she was going to die, she'd been so sure of it. But she'd been that sure of it at other times as well, when other men had chosen to make her the object of their anger or control or fear, breaking themselves against her like a stormfront, cutting through to her soul until death felt inevitable. But every time she had survived. She had fought against the shadow of death and she had lived. Maybe Marian couldn't die. Maybe it was impossible for her.