What would my future look like when Lazarus is nothing but a memory once more?
The thought is like a physical blow. That future is unfathomable.
You don’t even know what loss is, she said not so long ago. You’ve never loved anything enough to care if it goes.
Now I know.
I cannot lose her.
It’s not even a question. It’s a certainty. I simply can’t. It’s the same damnable choice Lazarus made when she discovered Ben. A single person can change your life. As a human, you can love deeply enough to doom humanity.
Or redeem it.
Chapter 76
The Beyond
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Death
“Wait,” I call out.
Lazarus’s family is already welcoming her; she is frightfully close to that blinding light of the beyond. Have I ever considered heaven frightful before this moment? Because right now, it is. And she’s a hair’s breadth from it.
“Wait,” I say again, softer this time.
Lazarus turns back to face me. The raw hope in her eyes cuts me deep. Too long that hope has been dashed.
It won’t be ever again. I don’t care if I have to apologize every day for the rest of our mortal lives, so long as we get those lives.
I move towards the spirits that surround her, brushing past them to get to Lazarus.
I clasp her spectral face in my hands. When I look into her eyes, I feel a deep sense of certainty not just that I can give up my task, but that I must. Not even God’s commands can drown out this drive I feel. I would tear away my immortality, my heavenliness, and I would unmake the world, all for the press of this woman’s lips against my skin and her voice in my ear.
“If I gave you everything you wanted—your son, an end to the apocalypse and the killing—would you return to Earth?” I ask.
Her brows draw together in confusion, and the sight of it wounds me. I have set her expectations so low, she cannot make sense of this.
“You—” my voice fails me, and I have to start again. “You can go with your loved ones and enter the afterlife. There will be no more pain.” I draw in a shuddering breath, the possibility terrifying to me. “Or, you could stay with Ben, on earth. I can’t promise that there will be no pain. To live is to feel pain.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I can’t read her face.
“What about you?” she eventually says.
I inhale sharply, and it’s as if I’ve drawn in my first breath. “I want you, Lazarus. With every part of me, I do. That will never change.” My love is just as vast and unending as the rest of me. “But I hurt you, and then I took you and then I disappointed you—”
One of her spectral hands presses against my lips, silencing me.
“I have done all the same to you,” she says. “It is forgiven.” She searches my features. “We have spent the entirety of our relationship fighting for our causes. What if we started fighting for one another?”
I go still at the implication.
Lazarus continues. “I want to return to Earth—and I want everything you promised. But I also want one more thing—” She smiles, “you.”
Chapter 77
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Lazarus
I gasp in a breath, and my lungs expand. Rocks are digging into my back and everything feels … well, less than whimsical.
I blink my eyes open and stare up at Thanatos.
Except for that face. That face is pure whimsy.
The horseman smiles at me, and that smile manages to drive away all the shadows that linger on his face.
I grin back at him, my entire body feeling alive.
But then the smile slips from Death’s face. For a moment, he looks confused.
“Thanatos?”
Just as I begin to sit up, he chokes.
“Thanatos!” What’s going on?
I slip out of his arms so that I can kneel in front of him.
“Death?”
He looks at me, but his eyes are unfocused. The horseman rises to his feet, and for an instant I think that he’s fine. But then he staggers backwards, looking at something in the distance that only he can see. His armor dissolves away completely, and I realize I’m seeing an angel being stripped of his immortality.
Death’s wings flare wide and he cries out, his body taut with pain. He reaches for his back as the feathers begin to peel off his wings one by one, the inky black plumage tossed about in the wind. The feathers fall away faster and faster. I brace myself for the sight of the flesh beneath them, but there’s nothing there. It’s as though the appendages themselves are being blown away.
I ache at their loss. I know they were cumbersome for him, but I thought they were one of the aspects of the horseman that was beautiful because it was inhuman.
He breathes heavily. All that’s left of his immortal attire are his clothes and boots. With effort, he straightens.
“Your wings,” I say, pulling myself to my feet.
He glances at me. “Watorava. Transmutation.”
Nothing actually goes. It’s transformed, but transmutation isn’t actually lost or gone at all.
I laugh through the tears.
I close the distance between us and kiss him savagely.
Chapter 78
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Death chose us. In the end, he chose us. Humanity.
And he chose me.
Well, technically he chose me and then I chose him and then he chose me again—or something like that—but whatever, we chose each other.
I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.
I stare up at him. Those silver flakes still sparkle like jewels in his eyes, and I can see the barest hint of his glowing glyphs around the collar of his shirt, and when I look down at his hands, he still wears that ring with the coin of the dead.
“So, it’s over?”
He nods as he leans in close, his nose brushing against mine. “It is,” he says softly.
I pull away from him and glance around. There are piles of dismembered corpses and twisting plants and broken bits of asphalt. Everything is so quiet.
Deathly quiet.
The other horsemen.
I turn from Death then and move towards the first horseman my eyes fall on, which just happens to be War. I’m afraid of what I’m going to find when I get to him.
The fearsome man lay slumped on his side, a mountain of dead surrounding him. I can’t make out much of his face from this angle, but last I saw of him, he’d been stabbed and his body withered.
I still see blood on his skin, and his hair is hiding his features, but his sword arm … I swear it’s no longer broken.
Still, I hesitate for a moment before I crouch in front of him. Taking a stabilizing breath, I move the hair from his face.
War’s eyes are closed, but he looks … better. Much better. His olive skin has the same healthy glow I remember. As I touch him, I hear him murmur, “Wife.”
A ragged exhale slips out of me.
He’s alive.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say.
His eyes flutter open. He groans a little as he pushes himself up. “Did he do it?” he asks.
I glance over my shoulder and meet Death’s gaze. He stands where I left him, and without his wings and armor, the horseman looks all the more vulnerable.
“He did,” I confirm, giving Thanatos another small smile. I turn back to War. “Humanity has been saved, once and for all.”
“That … bastard,” War grits out. “I knew he had it in him.”
Spoken as though we weren’t wholly and completely screwed thirty minutes ago.
A short distance away, I see Famine just as he flops onto his back and laughs at the sky.
“I’m mortal!” he shouts. His words are cut short by a sharp, hacking cough. “Fuck,” he wheezes, “I’m mortal.”
/>
“Just wait until you age,” Pestilence calls out hoarsely.
“Looking forward to it, grandpa,” Famine replies.
One by one, the men pick themselves up. Death hadn’t killed them after all. Or perhaps he did, and then he saved them. Or perhaps it wasn’t him at all. Perhaps God—the universe, whatever you want to call Her—meddled once more.
Regardless, it’s a wonder, seeing them alive.
As soon as they’re back on their feet, I tense once more, afraid of the fallout that might come. But if I thought Death’s brothers would hate him for what he did, I thought wrong.
The men leave their weapons behind before they approach Thanatos. And then, when they do close in on him, they give him thumping hugs.
“All is forgiven,” I hear Famine quietly say to him. Death holds his brother a bit tighter after he hears that.
“You put up a good fight,” War concedes. “But in the end, nothing is quite as tenacious as a human woman.” The two men share an amused look.
The last one to embrace him is Pestilence.
“Welcome to mortality, brother,” he says simply. “You’re going to love it.”
Chapter 79
West Coast, North America
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Thanatos does love it.
As the Four Horsemen and I travel up the West Coast, steadily making our way to Vancouver Island, Death is forced to learn about the joys of hunger, and going to the bathroom, and so many other little humanisms that his immortality shielded him from.
And … it’s a joy. He’s a joy. There’s a light and excitement in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Even when he complains about how barbaric shitting is. Or when he grumbles about hunger pains. He really is in love with life; it’s as though before he’d forced himself to hold back from enjoying it. Now he doesn’t need to.
Pestilence, War, Famine and I have taken to giving him foods like lemons and olives, cheese and yogurt and fish, just to gauge his reaction. Perhaps he tries them out of guilt, or perhaps it’s curiosity, but Death goes gamely along with it. And now that he has an appetite, he eats like a horse—as does Famine. Those two get to enjoy the learning curve of mortality together.
As for me, my own mortality is less apparent, but I notice it well enough when I cut my hand on accident or scape my shin. These little knicks would’ve healed within hours. Now they take days.
Despite the high we all have from surviving the apocalypse, we cannot escape its gruesome aftermath. There are so many dead. We pass them for miles and miles, days and days, the smell suffocating, and the flies and scavengers that have descended on them only make the scene more horrific.
The dead stretch from Southern California, through Oregon, all the way up into Washington. War had been wrong when he said Thanatos was destroying the world a mile per minute; Death had been killing people off far more aggressively.
The bodies are a prickly, uncomfortable reminder of what Thanatos did, and what the rest of us so narrowly escaped. But then my own perspective is altered. I have glimpsed the afterlife. Death was right—it is nothing to fear.
It’s not until somewhere in Washington that we see the first living person traveling along the road. The man’s eyes look haunted, and when he sees us, his attention lingers on the four brothers a bit too long.
The traveler has barely passed us when Pestilence clears his throat. “Unless any of you are interested in more fighting—”
“I’m always interested in more fighting,” War interjects.
“Psycho,” Famine mutters under his breath.
War turns in his saddle to Famine. “Brother, you say that as though you aren’t one,” War’s voice booms out, louder than the rest.
The two of them laugh then, as though they’re sharing the most hilarious joke and not some traumatizing truth.
“Let me rephrase:” Pestilence continues, ignoring his brothers, “unless you all wish to cut your hard-won mortality short, I suggest we move off the main road from this point on.”
Despite War’s enthusiasm for battle, we do move off the road.
In the evenings, after we’ve put out our campfires, Death and I drift away from the others. Tonight, like every other night since the almost-end-of-the-world, Thanatos holds me, the two of us staring at the stars.
Well, I’m staring at the stars. Thanatos is tracing my lips and doing his absolute best to distract me.
“I cannot believe it took me so long to see what I should’ve all along,” he admits.
“I don’t hold it against you,” I say, smiling softly against his touch. “You were thinking about death, and I was thinking about life.”
“Yes, but life and death are lovers, kismet. They always choose each other in the end.”
I turn my face from the stars and meet Death’s dark gaze. “We did,” I agree, and then I kiss him.
Just when it seems like we will be doomed to travel forever, we arrive on Vancouver Island. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach all day.
Today I will see my son.
The trees around us rustle in the breeze, and this place is one of the most beautiful sites I’ve laid eyes on in a long time. All of the Pacific Northwest is. And maybe that’s because for the first time in over a year I know I don’t have to continue traveling—but I’d also like to believe it’s because this place looks like a slice of heaven.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
I still have so many questions for Thanatos—about the apocalypse’s inception, about its outcome, about God’s feelings on all of it—you know, those big questions that keep you up at night. But for now, I’ll make do with the fact that I stopped Death in the end. Stopped him and then decided to keep him around.
Pestilence leads the group of us off of the paved road, and I cast a glance over at the horsemen. Pestilence—Victor (I will get it right one of these days)—War, and Famine all have an excited gleam in their eyes.
We must be close.
My hands begin to tremble, and Death’s grip on me tightens. For the next few minutes the group of us ride in silence.
I hear children’s laughter before I see the house.
“My girls,” I hear War murmur, now grinning like a mad fool.
I crane my neck to see anything, but the trees block out my view.
But then the trees part, and the late afternoon sun glitters down on green, green grass that slopes away from an enormous two story home.
And out in front of that home stand a group of people, most of them women. They’re barbequing something, and a young man is sitting on the steps, tuning his guitar. Out on the front lawn are a gaggle of children—also mostly girls.
I hear one of the women whoop.
“They did it! Pussy power for the win!”
I hear someone cackle. One of the women with dark, curly hair comes running towards our group, and grumpy Famine basically flings himself off his horse like he’s the most dramatic thing to ever enter North America. He sprints the last of the distance between them and swings the woman into his arms.
I’m taking it all in when I catch sight of Ben. He’s tossing a ball in the grass with a young girl who bears an uncanny resemblance to War.
Making a small sound, I slide out of Death’s arms and off his horse, my eyes trained on my son.
“Ben!” I shout, my entire body shaking from excitement and happiness and the best sort of nerves.
Ben looks up then, catching sight of me. For an instant, I’m paralyzed by a bolt of fear. Does he remember who I am? It’s only been four months, but to a small child, that’s an eternity.
My worries evaporate the moment Ben drops his ball and starts running. Running! When did he get so good at running?
But then of course he trips and falls because his little legs are still unsteady and I’m laughing even though my cheeks feel wet.
I sprint towards him, cutting the distance between us as he gets back up and, wearing the most blinding smile, begins runn
ing at me again. As soon as he’s within arm’s reach I sweep him up into a hug, spinning him as I do so. And then I’m kissing his temple, and I can hear him saying, “Mama! Mama!” And I’m still crying big, fat, stupid tears, and he’s holding me like he’s never going to let go and I’m one thousand percent fine with that.
There were countless times when I feared this day would never come, but it has. It has at last.
I sit down with my son in the grass, brushing his hair back and trying to memorize his features.
A shadow falls over me, and my skin pricks with awareness. Thanatos no longer brings that deadly stillness with him, but he still has a supernatural presence to him.
I glance up at the horseman, surprised to see a soft smile on his face. But his eyes are full of uncertainty.
Do I belong here? His expression seems to say.
I reach out and give his hand a squeeze because he does belong here.
Ben pulls away from me and stares up, up, up at the horseman, craning his neck to see the man. He tilts his held to the side, his eyes a little wary.
Death squats on his haunches so that he and Ben are roughly eye level. I marvel that the horseman no longer has to lean forward in that position to make room for his wings. My heart thumps in a mad way; I was so sad to see those wings go, but there are so many casually human things Death can now do. Like crouching.
“Hello, Ben,” he says. “I’m Thanatos.”
Ben continues to stare unblinkingly at Death, and I think that’s going to be the sum total of his reaction, but then Ben reaches out for Death’s face.
I see the horseman’s eyes widen in surprise as Ben points to one of them.
“Eye,” Ben says very seriously.
Thanatos nods, equally serious. After a moment, he himself reaches out. About an inch from Ben’s skin, he hesitates, his fingers curling inward. I remember that, up until several weeks ago, Death’s touch killed. Even then, he could control that power, but I still understand his reluctance.
Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) Page 42