I sense Death’s eyes on me, and I rotate to face him. Like earlier, he still looks a little melancholy, but then, maybe I’m just reading into things. Maybe I’m reading into all of this.
“What?” I say, a little self-consciously.
“What were you thinking, just then?” he asks.
My attention returns to the house, with the bougainvillea growing up its walls and that weathervane perched on its roof. Even from here I can hear the ocean crashing in the distance.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I admit.
Now I know I’m not imagining Thanatos’s sadness when his gaze sweeps over our surroundings. “As will I, Lazarus.”
Reluctantly, I hoist myself onto Thanatos’s steed. The horseman settles in behind me, and without another backwards glance, the two of us leave.
We head north, up one of L.A.’s many highways. The few bodies we pass are already decaying, and the faint smell of death permeates the air, even over the incense burning from his torch.
Death holds me tighter than usual, like I might slip away.
“Thanatos,” I say, placing my hand over his, “You can let up—” I pause when I notice the tremor in his hand.
“You’re trembling,” I say.
“It’s nothing.”
Something isn’t right. And if I’m being honest with myself, it hasn’t been right since I woke up this morning.
“What is going on?” I demand.
Nothing.
“Thanatos,” I say, “As long as I have known you, you have never skirted around hard truths,” I say. “Is it that bad?” I ask.
Ominous silence.
Finally— “I love you, Lazarus. Everything is going to be alright.”
I’m beginning to panic. His viselike grip only tightens further.
I reach for his hand again. “Why are you holding me so tightly?”
But then it hits me—
He thinks I’m going to run.
And now I have to wonder what could possibly be so bad that he thinks I’m going to flee him. He’s raised the dead, killed entire cities, and done just about every other frightening thing in the book.
“Whatever it is, Death, you can tell me about it,” I say, trying to sound reasonable when internally panic is setting in.
Is it another terrible power? Is it—Ben?
“My son,” I say. “Is he okay?”
“Your son is fine,” Death says grimly.
For a moment, I’m placated.
Perhaps whatever mood has wormed its way under Thanatos’s skin is not so bad.
We continue to head north, passing one decayed building after the next, and things almost go back to normal—until we come to a stop.
Several skyscrapers loom over us, many of them missing windows. In between them are other multistory structures with weathered walls and peeling paint; all of it is crammed together like there wasn’t enough room to build so they had to squeeze themselves upwards. The road itself is relatively free of bodies and debris, though there is one overturned bicycle and a dead woman sprawled out next to it, and farther up the highway I can make out several more bodies lying on the road.
Behind me, Death hops off his horse.
I glance down at him. “Why did we stop?”
“I feel them coming,” Thanatos murmurs, staring northward.
A wave of trepidation rolls through me.
“Who?” I say, dreading the answer.
“My brothers,” Thanatos says, casting a grim look at the road ahead of us.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I thought we had more time.
“Then let’s go around them,” I say. I’ll explain my reasoning later. I just want Thanatos to get back on his horse.
“They intend to stop me,” he says, ignoring my words. “I will not let them get between me and my purpose.”
My blood goes cold, even as my heart begins to race.
“Your purpose?” I say, my tone light.
He turns to me now. “It is time, kismet.”
My brows pull together, even as my chest rises and falls faster and faster. “Time for what?”
Death reaches for the buckles of his breastplate and begins undoing them one by one.
“What—what are you doing?” I demand. I don’t mean for my voice to waver, but it does.
He continues removing his armor until every last piece of it lay at his feet. Then he tugs his shirt off, his eyes never leaving mine. “I never read to you all of my markings.”
Something is very, very wrong here.
I slip out of the saddle, my boots hitting the ground heavily. I swivel to Death. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “You’re not acting like yourself, Thanatos.”
Those mournful eyes meet mine. “I am acting exactly as I should be.”
He takes a step forward, his hand moving to his chest, his finger touching one of his many markings.
He reads it all in his native language. I understand none of it, but the power of the words sweep through me, making my knees go weak.
I back up as the horseman moves forward. He begins to translate.
“From the darkest reaches of the universe my form was forged. I am death, an end to all beginnings, a beginning to all ends. I am the one who can take the living and raise the dead. The one who can resurrect souls. I have unto me, all the powers of my forbears and that which ties the threads of creation fast.
“I am the last of my kind, and I bring with me every manner of malady to plague humankind. Their fields shall blacken, their creatures shall flee. Mortals will quake before my name and all will fall to my touch. For I will end the world.
“The buildings will break, the roads will be torn asunder. The world will unmake itself until every last remnant of man’s creation crumbles to dust. The brave will return to the soil, and the cowardly and cruel as well. And the barley shall grow wild once more, and the beasts of old may return to their lands. All shall be as it once was. For I am the heart of God, and I will carry out Her will. I am the last judgment of humankind.”
I have fallen to my knees and tears track down my face and I don’t remember crying or falling.
Death’s hand drops from his skin. “Do you know what happens once I have made my final decision?”
I can feel the world’s collective mortality hanging in the air between us.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
“Do you know?” he presses.
I close my eyes and swallow. I have heard enough talk of the End of Days to know what he’s alluding to. He spoke of it himself only a moment ago.
“The Last Judgment,” I say softly.
The end of human life as we know it.
Chapter 69
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Death
I gaze upon Lazarus, and I want to tell her this was never my idea. I take souls, but I’ve never hungered for their deaths. I’ve only ever carried out the orders I was given, from the very first death to this one.
I make exceptions from time to time—my brothers’ wives are proof of that. But in the end, the four of us horsemen must finish our task, regardless of our personal feelings.
Still, I am shattered because I love Lazarus and she will hate me as she once did. Because all the rest of humanity hates me and I love them and I cannot help them cling to these lives they covet. Not without betraying the entire sentient universe.
And I will not do that.
Lazarus
I … failed.
I seduced Death, I made him fall in love with me—I even fell in love with him. I have given up everything—my cause, my son, my body, my heart—and Death is still set to slay the world.
The thought closes up my throat. I can’t breathe around this paralyzing fear.
He looks grief-stricken, so I guess there’s some consolation in that. Not that it changes anything.
“I’m sorry, my love—”
>
“Don’t,” I say, my voice breaking. “Don’t call me that.”
His expression shutters. After a moment, he moves away from me. He reaches for his discarded clothing, putting it on once more.
Preparing for battle. Because I think that’s what’s about to happen.
In the distance I hear the pound of horse’s hooves, and it startles me from my thoughts.
The highway curves around a steep hill, so I see nothing beyond the bodies already scattered along the road.
A minute later, however, a figure on horseback rounds the curve, coming into view. Shortly after that, two other individuals follow on foot.
Death’s brothers.
I feel the last sand in my hourglass slip through my fingers. The task they gave me—seduce Death—didn’t work. All it did was make me love the one thing I shouldn’t. I didn’t even get to hold Ben in my arms one final time.
The closer the three men get, the more details I can make out. The most obvious is Famine with his coal-black steed and bronze armor, his scythe rising up behind his back. Both War and Pestilence wear black, though they lack the armor of their brother. Pestilence carries a bow and quiver, and War has a massive sword strapped to him.
They, too, came ready for battle.
The horsemen stop thirty or so feet from us, though it feels like they’re still an ocean away.
War’s gaze falls heavily on me, and I know what he must be thinking.
She failed.
“Lazarus, it’s good to see you again,” Pestilence calls out. He takes me in, his eyes pinched with worry. They harden a bit when they move to the man behind me. Returning his attention to me, Pestilence says, “Are you alright?”
That single question—that simple but heartfelt concern—threatens to crush me.
No, I’m not alright. I thought I was but this is really, really bad and I’m just one woman and I think we’re all about to witness the end of the world.
My own gaze moves from horseman to horseman. Without even fully intending to, I begin to walk towards them.
Death doesn’t stop me, though I swear he wants to. I think, despite how remote he’s being, that he wants to clutch me to his chest to ensure I never leave.
Famine hops off his steed while the others cast their flinty gazes on Death, as though the winged horseman might detonate at any moment.
I don’t stop walking until I get to Pestilence.
He likes to be called Victor, I remind myself.
The horseman doesn’t hesitate. The moment I’m within arm’s reach, he pulls me in for a hug I wasn’t expecting. His hand rubs up and down my back in an almost fatherly fashion. Without meaning to, I sort of collapse into the embrace, and he holds me all the tighter.
None of this makes sense. My lover killed my family, the man hugging me killed my parents, and the other two have killed countless more. My son is staying with people I have never met, and all of it might not matter very, very soon.
“You’re alright,” the horseman says, his voice gentle. “It’s going to be okay. Truly, it is.”
It’s such a small, innocuous line, and yet I’m choking up the same way I did when I saw my mother only days ago.
I nod, maybe a little too quickly, and pull away, flashing Pestilence a tight smile.
“How is Ben?” I ask, even though Death probably has more insight than he does.
“He’s well taken care of,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My wife Sara has dubbed herself his fairy godmother.” Pestilence winks. “She was feeding him sugar cookies when we left.” His eyes skim over me again. “How are you doing?”
I’m in love with Death, and my soul is screaming, but—
“Fine.” The word comes out raspy and wrong. It’s so obvious it’s a lie.
Pestilence frowns, his brow crinkling. His eyes flick up to Death, his gaze going steely.
“What have you done to her?” Pestilence demands.
Thanatos takes a step forward. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.” His voice thunders. “Lazarus is the one thing I love above all else.”
“Is she?” Famine says, pulling out his scythe from behind his back as he swaggers forward. He spins the weapon in his grip. “Because it looks to me like you wouldn’t give up your task for her.” The Reaper sounds almost gloating.
I frown at him.
“I am glad you, my brothers, are here,” Death says, his voice echoing across the hills. “We came to earth to end humankind. And today we will finally do so, once and for all.”
Chapter 70
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
“Thanatos, stop being a fool,” Pestilence says. “Can’t you see that none of us want this? Not even you.”
At the horseman’s words, I swear Death’s gaze flickers, and there’s that agony in his eyes.
“If you want a war, you will have to go through me,” War says, looking like a god despite his mortality.
Thanatos scowls at him, taking a step forward. “How easily you forget that I saved your wife and child from certain death.”
“And you wish to once again take them from me before their times.”
“After their times,” Death corrects. “Many, many years after their times. You have become as greedy as the rest of these humans.”
Famine brushes past War, his scythe gripped tightly in his hand. “If anyone gets to stop this asshole, it’s me.”
Thanatos’s mouth curves into a mocking smile, turning his tragic features haughty.
“You wish to do this again, brother?” Death demands, prowling forward like some great cat, his wings spreading wide. “Twice I have hurt you. I cannot be beaten.”
“Stop it,” I say. Pushing past the horsemen, I return to Death once more.
I put a hand on his chest, my gaze going to his eyes. I’ve fought this man so many times it makes my head spin. I don’t want to fight him anymore. And I know I didn’t imagine that glimmer of unease in his eyes.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, my voice low.
Death’s dark, depthless eyes glint, and I am reminded that he’s no true man.
“I must.”
“No,” I insist, “you don’t. Your brothers made their choice. You can choose too—or you can choose to wait.” I’ll take even that at the moment.
Thanatos casts a spiteful glance over my shoulder. “My brothers lost their way out here, and I am on the brink of losing it myself, but I must not.”
“You told me you loved me.” My voice breaks. “Is that not enough?”
Death’s harsh features soften, and his knuckles stroke my cheek. “My love for you is eternal and unfaltering, Lazarus. Do not doubt that. Stars will form and die, and what I feel for you will remain undimmed.”
Death tilts my chin up. Even as he does so, the earth begins to tremble, and in the distance I can hear the groan of old buildings.
“What I do today is a separate matter entirely. This”—his gaze sweeps over our surroundings before returning to me—“is my burden and my duty. I won’t be stopped.” His expression is resigned. Sad even.
He doesn’t want to do this. I cling to that.
“What about Ben?” The question comes out as a whisper. It’s the one thing I’ve dreaded asking this entire time.
Death’s eyes are heavy on mine. “Forgive me.”
A choked sob slips out, and my knees nearly buckle. I’m shaking my head. “How can you even ask me that?” I say. “You promised.”
He presses his lips together.
Now my legs do fold. Death catches me before I hit the ground, hauling me up to him.
I’m shaking my head over and over. “Please,” I beg. “I will do anything. Just please, not Ben.” He’s just a baby.
The horseman holds me close. “It’s going to be okay, Laz.”
They’re nearly the same words that Pestilence just said, and yet they hit all wrong.
“Don’t do this,” I
whisper. “Please don’t do this.”
The earth is violently shaking now, the buildings around us swaying and groaning. I can hear things in the distance breaking from the strain.
“I cannot gratify you and the universe, kismet,” Thanatos says. “But I don’t want this. I don’t want to do it at all.”
A building in the distance goes down.
BOOM!
The earth shakes violently, and if it weren’t for Thanatos’s grip on me, I would’ve been thrown to the ground.
I cast a wild glance around us. The world is about to be unmade stone by stone, and Death is responsible.
Death, who held me close at my worst moments. Who has agonized over my suffering, even when we were enemies.
“So this is how it all ends?” I say. “This is how I end?”
Death cups my face. “Life and Death are lovers, Lazarus. There is no end for us, no me without you, and no you without me. You are the one exception to all of this. My one exception. I can reap the world … but I cannot—will not—take you with the rest. I will not leave you at all.”
I can’t wrap my mind around what Death is saying, but what I do understand is that I’ll be left behind. Everything else will go, but not me.
The mere possibility of that future is terrifying.
The horseman’s expression turns distant, and I can see Death as he must appear to others—remote, remorseless, and uncompromising.
My heart beats madly. He’s really going to do this. I can see he is. Dear God.
Thanatos moves away from me, his attention turning to his brothers. “The time for talking is over,” Death says. “Join me or fight me, but the Final Judgment is now upon us.”
Chapter 71
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
It’s a clear day, the day the world ends.
The trembling ground shakes more violently than ever, making one of the wheels of the nearby overturned bike start to spin. Rocks and other debris skitter along the highway.
I back away from Death as he spreads his wings.
With a leap, the winged horseman surges into the sky. His face is all sharp edges. Solemn, tragic beauty only tempered by his fierce purpose.
Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) Page 38