After

“Let’s play a game,” Alturis said.

“Let’s,” Megan answered.

“We’ll ask each other questions.”

“Great.”

“I’ll start,” Alturis said.  He leaned forward.  “Tell me, Megan Cooper.  What part of yourself would you most like to kill?”

Megan had a feeling he asked all of his victims this question; it was the kind of thing a homicidal maniac with a rampaging God complex would find amusing.  But if it kept him talking she would play along.  So she replied, “My memory.”

Alturis raised a discerning eyebrow.  “That would be too bad.   Your memory is the only thing in life you own.”

“I’ll sell it to you for cheap.”

“Fine.  Sell it to me.  Tell me why I would want it.”

“Because it might keep you entertained between murders?”

“But surely I must have a sample first, correct?” Alturis returned.  “For instance, when did you realize you were in love with your neighbor?”

Megan shrugged.  “I never was.”

“Then why do you look longingly at his house?”

“Just remembering,” she answered.  “That’s all.”