Or at least, what remains of it.
The buildings have fallen, and Death has to navigate us around debris scattered across the highway. I don’t see much of the damage up close since we never move onto city streets, but I don’t see another soul, living or dead.
The smell, however, lingers in the air, and the deep rooted stench of it makes me think that there were recently dead carcasses lying about that either scavengers dragged out of sight … or Death had.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. I know he feels our newfound romance is fragile, and he probably wants to do everything he can to not mess it up—which would include hiding bodies.
Ah, horseman chivalry. What a concept.
We move through Austin, and continue on. The sun has just set when I start seeing standing structures in place of collapsed ones. Untouched land. Even then, however, the houses are sporadic.
“I have made a mistake,” Death admits, out of the blue.
I glance over my shoulder at him. “What is it?” I ask.
“I have been so keen on passing the land I’ve touched that I have forgotten to find a place for us to stay.”
Touched? That’s what he’s going to call the destruction around us?
I’m quiet.
“I don’t like this silence of yours,” he admits. “It feels … accusing. Tell me where your mind is at.”
“I’m thinking that you still understand very little about me,” I say. “Otherwise, you’d know that I’m not upset about the thought of sleeping under the stars.”
Behind me, the horseman pauses.
“But when I first took you, you hated being outside. You were cold—”
“I was uncomfortable,” I agree, “but mostly, I was trying to shame you into letting me go.”
Death’s hold tightens on me. “Never,” he vows.
I grimace as an electric thrill courses through me. I hate that I like that declaration.
I clear my throat. “I’m fine sleeping in a normal house—or outside, provided I have bedding to keep me warm,” I say. “And I was quiet a moment ago because I was thinking of all the cities you’ve … touched,” I say that word derisively.
It’s Thanatos’s turn to go quiet.
“I will find you a … normal house for tonight,” he says softly, not bothering to address the other part of what I said. “But I do not plan on making this a habit. I cannot give you what you most want,”—an end to the killing, he means—“but I can give you this, at least.
A short while later, I notice a cluster of lights in the distance.
A town.
It feels like a small eternity before we actually reach those lights. The gas lamps that run on either side of the road illuminate storefronts so weathered that it looks as though they were abandoned twenty-odd years ago, when the horsemen first arrived. If it weren’t for those gas lamps running through the town—lamps that someone had to light by hand—I would’ve assumed this place was nothing more than the bones of the world that existed before everything went to hell.
“You remember our deal?” I say softly to Thanatos.
The one where he doesn’t kill everyone right away.
“I have not forgotten.”
I can hear the frown in his voice.
His horse only takes a few more steps when the ground starts to tremble, and I can hear glass rattling in the warped windowpanes of a nearby building and the sound of a hanging wooden sign banging into the antiques shop it advertises.
The quaking grows and grows until the gas lamps begin to fall like dominos, their glass casings shattering as they hit the ground. In the distance, someone shouts.
“Thanatos,” I gasp.
A few of the felled lamps still glow, and the flames flare brighter as the fire follows the trail of spilled kerosene. It casts an ominous orange glow on the buildings—which are thankfully still standing.
“You have forbidden me to kill,” he says. “This is all I have left.”
I give him a look over my shoulder. I hope he knows he sounds ridiculous.
Death meets my gaze as rain begins to fall, going from a sprinkle to a torrent in seconds. It washes away the kerosene, effectively snuffing out the streetlights. And completely drenching the both of us in the process.
“Are you doing that?” I ask, narrowing my gaze as the rain comes down faster and faster.
“I’m not too keen on any stray humans catching sight of me.”
Ah, now the broken streetlamps make sense.
I frown. “And I’m not too keen about getting wet.”
I can barely make out the smile spreading across the horseman’s face. “Oh, but I disagree, kismet. Given the right circumstances, I think you very much enjoy getting wet.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, his meaning clear.
Death pulls me in close. “But, if you are uncomfortable, I could peel off your soaked clothes and kiss the wetness from your skin,” he breathes. “Simply ask, and it will be done.”
My God.
I actually consider his proposition. That’s how hopeless I am.
“Why don’t you find us a place to stay in for the night? Then we can discuss … the rest of that offer.”
“Fine,” he agrees, his lips brushing my ear, “I’ll find us a house if you focus on staying wet.”
“Thanatos.”
How has he already become dirtier than me?
Death lets out a husky laugh, then urges his horse onwards. It’s hard to see anything now that the lamps lay broken and scattered across the ground. I notice a few dimly lit houses, and there are even one or two with someone peering out the window, probably wondering what happened to the lamplight. But the rain keeps them in and hopefully the night hides Death’s identity from them.
I shiver a little, my body soaked through with rainwater. The horseman clutches me closer to him, and his wings move forward, wrapping around the sides of the horse. It looks like an awkward position to hold, but he keeps them there, and they drive off the chill.
Down a street to our right, I hear someone’s voice carry over—
“I don’t know why Coco’s acting this way, she’s never done this before.”
That’s when I notice that over the pounding rain, there’s frantic, almost pained barking.
The animals sense Death.
We’ve gone another quarter mile when the horseman says, “You have bested me, Lazarus.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You do not want to stay in an abandoned house, but you do not want me to kill the town until we have passed through it, so I cannot take one of the occupied homes either. I am at a loss for what to do.”
My heart pounds. He’s right, though I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. Of course, there’s still always the option of camping, though I’m not about to suggest that while it’s raining.
“I’m fine staying in an abandoned house—”
“Liar.”
“I am,” I insist. “You can even do all those dirty things you were fantasizing about a minute ago—”
“Really, my kismet?” he says, sounding blatantly unconvinced. “You would happily get intimate if you were lying on moldering flooring, the stink of rotting walls and wet vermin around you?”
When he puts it like that …
“As I thought.”
“I’m sure not every abandoned house is that terrible.”
“You think I’m willing to take the chance?” he laughs, even as he prods his steed into a full gallop. “I will ride through this city, then end it, then find us a place to stay.”
“Wait,” I say, even as Death’s horse continues to gallop. I want this man to see a little bit of what humans are like. “We can do it your way, but please, we’re already here. Let’s at least stop at a house for a moment so I can show you what life looks like.”
“You wish to introduce me to some hapless family?” he says, aghast at the idea. As though his job doesn’t have him brushing elbow
s with countless souls all the damn time.
I guess living souls are very different than dead ones.
“No,” I say, “I just meant that we could peer in on someone.”
Okay, that sounded far creepier than intended.
However, the idea does cause Death to slow his horse.
“You would like me to watch some living humans for a span of time?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“How long?” he demands.
I don’t know. “Just a short while.”
“And then you will not fight me when I kill off this town?”
I swallow. “I’m never going to be comfortable with that,” I say. “But no, I won’t fight you,” I agree.
The horseman draws in a deep breath. “Alright,” he says. “Alright. I can do what you request.” He glances around. “Where do you want me to go?”
The truth is, I have no clue where to go. I hadn’t really planned this far in advance.
“Let’s find a neighborhood,” I say.
There aren’t many. Not in a town this small. Eventually, however, we do stumble across one. Most of the houses are dark, but then there’s one up ahead where I can see the flicker of candlelight. As we get closer, voices and intermittent laughter drift out.
I nearly sigh out my relief.
There was always the chance that I’d pick a house where the people inside hated one another. That would only further convince Thanatos of what he already believes—that humans are better off dead than alive.
“There,” I say, pointing to the house in question.
We ride up to it, then dismount. It’s a single story ranch house, with a decorative rock chimney and a low-lying fence. Even on a dark and rainy night, lingering outside someone’s house is a great way to draw attention.
Taking Death’s hand, I lead him over to the gate. Silently, I unlatch it and lead the two of us through, heading towards the backyard.
Back here, I can see more light flickering from inside. The curtains aren’t closed, and I draw Thanatos over to an out-of-the-way window that peers into the home’s living room.
Inside, a family appears to be winding down for the night. One boy and two girls are sprawled out on the floor, playing a board game. An older boy is curled up on a side chair, reading a book. Their parents sit close together on the couch, each of them drinking amber liquid out of mason jars. The woman’s legs are thrown over her husband’s lap as the two of them chat.
The horseman looks at me. “What now?”
“Just … watch them for a little while,” I say.
He frowns at me, water dripping from his dark hair. He extends one of his dark wings, shielding me from the worst of the rain, which is still pelting at our skin.
I glance up at the sky. “You can let up with the rain.”
“Must I?” he says. “I do so like the way your clothing molds to your skin, kismet.”
“Thanatos.”
The corner of his mouth curves up. “You’re only upset because I have armor on and you cannot enjoy the same sight.”
A ridiculous laugh slips out, one that I have to bite back immediately. But when no one inside glances out the window, I know that nobody heard me.
Still, I give the horseman a friendly push. He sways a little, but uses his wing to nudge me into him. I fall against him, and he wraps an arm around me, capturing me in a kiss.
As his lips move against mine, the rain tapers off, then stops completely.
Death breaks off the kiss. “I do still intend to make you wet again later.”
“Stop it,” I whisper, a flush creeping up my cheeks.
He grins, but turns his attention back to the family.
Their evening is pretty mundane, and yet next to me, the horseman has gone still, his focus riveted to the family.
The parents chat quietly while the kids on the ground argue about the rules of the game they’re playing. The boy overturns the game board and then his sister is crying and running over to their mother, who gives her a hug and consoles her.
The oldest boy, who has been peacefully reading on the couch, now uses this moment to grab a pillow and whack his younger brother. The boy topples over, but before he can react more, their dad grabs another pillow and whacks the oldest boy. Pretty soon the crying stops and the entire family just has an impromptu pillow fight.
I feel my throat close up. This could’ve been me and my family ten years ago if you added a few kids in there. There’s no grand proclamations of love, but it’s so obvious in the silly, familiar way they interact with each other.
The pillow fight ends with the mother tickling her kids and her husband throwing one of them up into the air and catching them—and now all the rest of the siblings are clamoring around their dad, begging to be tossed up as well.
“Alright, time for bed,” I hear the mom say.
One of the girls groans and her younger brother droops his head. However, within ten minutes the living room has cleared out, and that’s the end of that.
Death blinks, like he’s waking from a trance.
“It is strange to watch them, Lazarus,” he admits, turning away from the window. “I have assumed that living is what you and I do,” Death says. “I forget that it’s the exact same thing that millions of other humans do every single day.”
Millions of humans. He’s mentioned that number before, and I cling to it. Millions. There are still so many of us alive. All hope is truly not lost.
Death is quiet as we return to his steed, which has been munching on the lawn like he’s a real horse.
Silently, the two of us get back into the saddle. It’s only now that I feel the rest of our agreement closing in on me. Death promised to hold off on killing a city until he caught a glimpse of their humanity.
Now he has.
Maybe he’ll wait until we’ve actually crossed the city lines—like he alluded to earlier. It honestly doesn’t really matter. The thought of what comes next makes my stomach twist all the same. This is the part where good people die, taking with them all their love, all their light, all of their spirit.
The thought of those small children not existing tomorrow is painful, as is the thought of that couple, who drank alcohol from mason jars and draped their legs on each other’s laps.
“Let them all go to sleep first,” I say hoarsely.
The silence stretches out between me and the horseman, punctuated only by the scuff of his steed’s hooves.
I feel Death’s heavy intake of air and I want to believe he feels some hesitation or regret for what he’s about to do. I want to believe it, but I don’t know.
Finally, he says, “I will, kismet. I promise.”
We’re still threading our way through the city when Death says, “I still need to find you a place to rest.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I say. “Not here at least.” The thought of waking up in that city once everyone is gone … if I have a choice, then I want whatever the other option is.
After another pause, Thanatos says, “I will find us a house outside of the city, though I cannot promise you anything grand.”
I don’t care. I never cared.
Several minutes go by, and I’m still devastated by what will happen to that family—to this entire town. It never gets easier.
“Tell me a secret,” I say, my voice raw. “Something you know that no one else does.”
Maybe it’s the fatalism in me right now, but I need to make sense of all this anguish. If the world is going to burn—if some great God out there wants it to burn—then I need to understand why—or at least that it’s somehow right. Because I’ve looked at it from every angle I can, and I still can’t make sense of it.
“Curious creature,” Death murmurs fondly. “I will tell you all sorts of secrets,” he says, “but you must give up your human ones in return,” he says.
“What human ones?” I don’t have secrets.
“Oh, you have plenty,” he says.
I mean, I could give him the family’s secret recipe for the best peach cobbler in Georgia, but honestly that’s about as wild as my secrets get.
“What do you want to know?” I say.
“What is it like to be a child?” he asks.
The question catches me by surprise. I guess it shouldn’t, not when we literally spent an evening watching tiny humans run around.
“It’s always going to be strange to me that you don’t already know these things,” I say.
“I have met many souls who’ve died young,” Death agrees, “but I want to know what kids are like alive.”
“I don’t know …” I begin. I mean, that’s such a big question, it’s hard to form any sort of real answer. “They’re like every unguarded emotion you've ever had,” I say. “And sometimes they’re annoying.”
“Annoying?”
I almost laugh at the note of shocked outrage in Death’s voice. Whatever he saw tonight has definitely warmed him up to kids.
“Yeah, they can be really annoying,” I say, thinking of my siblings’ kids, bless their souls. “When kids are upset, they can be the meanest little shits you’ve ever come across. And they will happily ask you a million different questions. And they tell the longest—and I mean the longest—stories.” I smile a little, remembering one of the last stories my niece Briana told me about her cat Melon. My throat chokes up at the memory. What I would give to get it all back.
“But,” I add, “mostly they are just unfiltered joy and potential. The world hasn’t yet worn away at them and they’re loving and happy.”
There’s a long pause.
“I don’t think I understand children any better than I did before I asked,” Death says.
I laugh a little. “I didn’t promise you I’d be any good at answering your questions.” I settle back against him. “Now will you tell me one of your secrets?” I say.
It’s quiet for several seconds.
“I do not like taking lives,” he admits softly.
I go still against him.
“What?” I turn in my seat, trying to see Thanatos better.
“I do not like taking lives,” he says again, more forcefully, his gaze almost challenging as he stares down at me.
That’s … I wasn’t expecting that at all. Death’s admitted before that he doesn’t enjoy violence, but not this.
Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) Page 29