The Geneva Convention
an excerpt

The Geneva Convention:
Prologue - Chapter 0: In Which The Middle Begins, and the Beginning Ends

He stood there, his green eyes wide, staring at her; it was only a moment before he had taken her captive: him behind her, tightly gripping her arm and throwing her against the wall. It took all the effort she had to scream—and even that was not enough; the door was slammed shut, and she could barely utter a whimper. She faced—metaphorically speaking, as being unable to see the captor’s face made it impossible for her to face him—her nightmare: the man dressed in black. It was the Shinigami—it was the Angel of Death—It was the Grim Reaper—
He had come for her, and she had nothing left but her prayers.

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Somewhere in Chapter 3 (The Invitation of Memories):

The thirty-three year old woman stared at Arbogast, and glared; it was not just any glare—it did not say 'hi, I hate you, go away' it said 'Hi, I fucking hate you and hope you drop dead so that I can reap the pleasure of basking in the fact that I am alive and you are wasting away for all eternity in the bowels of Hell, with no one to come and save you, where you will be forced to repent for your sins, but unable to do so without doing sins worse than those of their predecessors.'

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Mid-Chapter 4:

The phone rang once—twice—three times, and then: “Hello, are you the kid who called earlier? I’m sorry I hung up before I couldn’t send anybody out before, please don’t tell my boss, this is my first week and I don’t want to be fired, I’ll pay you if you do not tell him, yeah, pay you, how would you like some money for a new bicycle or a new house, yes, you need a new house because you said your parents were murdered I could buy you a new house!”
“I beg your pardon!” Arbogast put on his deepest, and most posh accent he could; he copied it from the man across the street who had tended to dislike Arby for running across his grass every day on his way to and from school. “I do not know if that is how you run your business, but I will be in first thing tomorrow morning to talk to your boss about you! But first, I am Henry James Victor and I just saw a man with a knife run out of my neighbour’s house. Oh, I do hope he killed that little Deluca child, because he always ran across my grass! Every day he would run across it and I would be cross with him and yell, and in the winter he would throw snowballs at me and eggs at my house! If that man killed the Deluca boy, it would be good riddance for the entire world! But if his poor parents were killed, it would be a tragedy. And their pretty daughter, she is oh-so-pretty. If she was a little older, and it was not against the law, I would invite her in for tea and a quick snog.”