“If you do not go with him, we will both die.”
My fingers dance along his tender face. “Better together than apart.”
I pick dried blood from his coat.
“I want this,” he whispers. “I want to save you from this curse.”
A breeze snakes in through the balcony doors, icy and otherworldly. Bumps prickle all over my skin, and I look over my shoulder. No one is there, but I feel a presence.
Wearing a weary frown, I continue preening my steed. “I will see the world burn and stand in the flames with you before I ever think of bringing you harm.”
His mouth opens, another argument ready to fall, but I cut him off.
“Enough.” My tone is firmer than the plague’s hold on us. “I will hear no more on it. My mind is made. Either we die facing off with War, or we die in our final slumber.”
“Still overestimating yourself?” comes a new voice.
It is War, striding into the room, his armour-cut trousers loose on his hips. Wet strands of black hair lick down his temples. He peels them to the side before running a hand through his hair.
“It’s you who underestimates me,” I retort. Though, I’ve lost all gusto and hope in our battle.
Famine and War must join forces to take down Death, he’s so powerful. But Death will be free before they can find him—and their joint wrath will find me instead.
I don’t stand a chance.
War senses that my heart isn’t in the threat. “Where is your fire today?”
“Sweating out a fever,” I snap.
War falls back onto the couch—my couch.
I lower my lashes at him.
“I have felt the burn of your threats and the sting of your disease at your weakest. Something must be on your thoughts—is it that I will destroy your beloved Death?”
I smile darkly at him. “He’s not my beloved anymore.”
“Ah.” War nods slightly. “The Siren, if I’m remembering correctly.”
In answer, I make a hum-grunt hybrid.
“You seem to know so much more with every day that passes.” I pause to study him. “And yet, so little at the same time.”
War only looks pleased at my response, and reclines on the couch as if he owns it.
“That tele vision,” I begin uncertainly. “The humans watch it to pass time and entertain themselves—to communicate, too.”
He tilts his head to the side, veiled eyes locked on me. “Yes.”
I pause for a moment before I say, “And I am yours?”
I have never considered this before. As the humans are my source of fun—usually by torture or malice—Death and I could be the source to others.
But it isn’t preposterous, now that I really think about it.
Our kind ... we live terribly long lives. Sometimes, some distraction is welcome. For me, it’s the joy of destroying vineyards. To the Fallen Ones, it’s apparently the joy of watching Death and I destroy each other.
It’s my turn to look sideways at him.
Confusion creeps onto my face in the form of a crinkled brow. “You and the other ... Fallen Ones ... Do you watch us for entertainment?”
Silently, he studies me, fingers grazing over the arm of the couch. “I do not watch you. Word of your affairs travels,” is all he reveals.
With a hum, I continue my strokes over Shadow’s face. His temperature has lowered to same as mine; fever slips away to the cool breeze whispering in through the balcony doors.
“We are healing,” I tell War as I tend to Shadow.
His coat must be clean. He likes it that way—and I realise he and War share a favour for cleanliness, more than others I know.
“In a day or two, I imagine we will be ready to leave,” I add distantly.
“Have you felt Conqueror at all?” War’s voice suddenly hardens into smooth stone, and he’s all business again—murder, war, bloodshed and missions. Two souls, perhaps, merged into a single body.
“No.”
I hear the rustle of the couch as he shifts forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, wearing a piercing stare that cuts through my cheek.
“And Death?”
“No.”
I barricade my lie, so he won’t sense it through the bond.
It works and, after a moment, he lounges back on the couch again.
We stew in a small silence, before the breeze softens and the soft murmurs from the tele vision creep in.
They call it ‘the news’ but there is nothing new in the muffled words I hear. Same as it has been for days. Pestilence in a church, disease spreading through the world, tips on how to avoid catching my plague. War attacking at the church, disappearing with Pestilence, cities lost to slaughter.
I blink, frozen.
Cities lost to slaughter ...
Slowly, I direct my narrowed eyes to War.
“You released it,” I say. “Your war—you unleashed it onto the humans already? Before you were instructed to?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “My instructions come much the same as yours. Within. Not from Conqueror.”
“Oh.” My interest is lost quickly, and I shrug. “Well, my instructions are dwindling,” I say. “I’m feeling well enough to visit the balcony. Take me.”
War cocks his eyebrow at my command.
I stare at him, unwavering.
“Do not mistake this for anything other than what it is.” War pushes from the couch and closes the distance between us in two swift strides. He hoops his arm around me and, with an effortless tug, lifts me to my feet.
“And what is it?” I sneer against him.
He carries me to the balcony, then deposits me on a lounger, harder than I expect.
I scowl up at him.
“I assist you to aid your healing,” he answers, and leans back against the barrier. “That is all.”
I stretch out under the evening clouds, where rain and thunder start to gather.
A jolt of anxiety spears through me. I feel Shadow’s familiar touch, and I know the heartache to be his. Terror and pain, choking him, reaching into me.
I sigh. He wants so badly to be sacrificed for my freedom, if only to save me from the curse I loathe to my bones.
I shut my eyes on his brewing panic and send soothing thoughts of my own.
“Your steed’s fear is strong.”
I peer through an eye at War. He watches me shamelessly, the heavy clouds casting shadows over his face.
As I block him out of our bond, I think of Death’s visit to the abyss and the scheme he has in place to escape this life. A scheme he so willingly abandons me for.
Death has burned me too many times. And now, it barely hurts anymore. It simply leaves me ... numb.
“What do you know about the gates?” I ask.
War doesn’t hide his surprise. He blinks at me, muscles stiff and tense against the chill of the air.
“In this world,” he says slowly, reading me with those fierce eyes of his, “there are four gates. Each is guarded by a Siren,” he adds, as if to frighten me away from the thought of the gates.
It does the opposite.
Suspicion licks up my veins, and I sit up on the lounger, facing War. “Sirens?”
“That’s what I said.”
“So the gates ... they’re in water, or at least near a sea.”
War presses his lips into a grim line. “What causes your sudden interest in the gates?”
For a beat, I consider lying. But the suspicion boils in my gut like pasta over a fire, clotting together into a heavy lump.
“Something Death said,” I reply dismissively. “If ... if the Sirens are the ones to guard the gates ... are they the ones to decide who passes?”
War stares at me as though I possess a brick for a brain.
I huff and scoot closer to him. “What I mean is, do they have the power to allow a being through—a being whose chains they will remove?”
“Can Sirens strip you of your restraints,” he clar
ifies. I nod. “Yes, that is one of their many purposes. A Horserider, for instance, cannot pass beyond the gate. So, when I depart this world, a Siren will remove the mark of this mission from my soul before I go forward.”
He pushes from the banister and steps over the lounger, a leg on either side.
Slowly, he sits right in front of me, gaze steady and fierce. “No Siren will do this against their orders. Like all beings of this world, they have ... superiors to answer to. Your weak escape plan will do you no good.”
A heavy tug twists my gut.
Flashes of that night come back to me.
Death’s cold, pale mouth on hers—a green-haired Siren. His eyes lock onto me, standing in my shock on the rocks. And his mouth turns into a grin.
“It’s not my plan,” I whisper.
War lets his guard clatter to the floor—he reaches for my hand and draws my gaze in. He can sense the thoughts whirling through me.
“What is it?”
I bite the inside of my sore-covered mouth.
So be it, my Pestilence.
But when you fall in this life, remember that I offered you a way out.
Am I acting too rashly?
Betraying Death’s schemes to a mutual enemy…
What am I doing?
“Death,” whispers War, his fingers loosening on my hands. “He is attempting to break free of this world?”
There’s no amusement left on his stony face.
“A moment ago, you found humour in the thought that I was planning on using the gates—and you’ve made it clear that the Sirens cannot open them whenever they choose.”
War looks grim.
His mouth is set, his fingers pressing into my hand.
“That power can be taken from a Siren,” he says. “But only one way.”
My breath feels tight in my throat. “How?”
War’s hands slip away from mine. “From their hearts.”
Time suspends for a moment, and I wait for him to say more. He doesn’t. He thinks I understand his meaning.
“You’ll have to be more precise,” I say.
War sighs, and I can tell this isn’t a topic he’s comfortable with. Behind the veil of his marble eyes, I catch glimmers, like other worlds shifting.
“A Siren’s heart is stone.” And his voice matches. “If a Siren falls prey to loving another, the heart of stone will then … bleed.”
“And if it bleeds…?”
“Should someone want to use the gate, and no Siren will allow it, a bleeding heart of stone is needed to force the gates open.” War watches me with what I suspect is worry—though it can’t be, not for me at least. “But once the gates are open, more is needed to pass through them without meeting true death.”
“Sacrifice,” I mutter. “The sacrifice of a loved one.”
War’s jaw ticks.
Slowly, he looks down at our closely aligned bodies, then shifts back on the lounger a bit. “You have felt him in the bond,” he accuses.
I turn my cheek to him and look at the balcony-bathtub.
The sting of Death’s betrayal should feel lighter, now that I know he was seeking a way out with the Siren. Tricking the Siren into loving him, just to get us both our freedom.
But hundreds of years, dozens of missions, and he was … silent. Death never sought me out after I found him with the Siren. He never chased, begged for forgiveness—he never told me anything about his plan. Not a word about it until this mission.
It doesn’t quite fit together for me. Pieces—questions—dangle above me like bait that I can never reach.
War grabs my chin and forces my gaze to his.
“Do not go to him,” he warns.
“Careful.” I grin at him, crooked, weak, and miserable. “If you keep talking like that, I might end up suspecting you care about me.”
War simply stares at me. “He must sacrifice a loved one,” he emphasises with a meaningful look. Clearly, he believes I am that loved one.
I wave his words away with a lazy flick of my hand, bruised and bubbled in some spots.
“Scythe is his sacrifice,” I tell him.
War’s eyes turn dark, darker than Death’s own inky cloak. “It’s not enough.” His look might be fierce, but a gentle touch has taken his voice. “A steed is not a worthy soul for this sacrifice. It isn’t complete.”
My brows pinch together, matching my furrowed mouth.
“He came to you,” says War, “to lure you.”
“What?”
“Our steeds are taken from our souls and born for us before we wake in this existence. The sacrifice of this ritual calls for a greater love—one such as yours with Death.”
Frozen, I feel the icy chill of dread trickle through me. My fingertips prickle, not unlike the first blow of disease striking through me.
For a second, I refuse to believe it.
No matter our trials, it is Death and I. Always. A forbidden love story that caught the attention of so many souls from worlds beyond ours.
But then, those pieces I couldn’t fit together moments ago—those dangling questions and unanswers of bait—suddenly fall into place, and the dread turns to hurt, strong enough to drag my heart down to the churning pit of my stomach.
Death was never looking for an escape for us. He was only looking for his own escape.
He called for me, ached for me in this mission because War came—and Death knew time was closing in on him.
I am the sacrifice.
And I suddenly can’t breathe.
Chapter 25
“I…”
Words keep failing me.
Blood stings my eyes. And even through the sickness that seeps away from me, I swear it is Death who tears me apart.
Crimson stains my cheeks, fast. It is a weakness I cannot afford, to weep in front of my enemy, but these first scarlet tears in centuries come in small streams.
“I said no…” The tears I fight thicken my voice. “I denied Death. He asked me to sacrifice Shadow … something I can never do.”
War runs his finger over his lips as he thinks, watching the blood roll down my face.
After a moment, he says, “Gaging the depths of your love for him, I suspect. The stronger your love for him, the better chance he has for success.” War looks at me from beneath his lashes. “Famine has been silent in the bond for some time. We cannot rule out the possibility that Death—”
“He did it.” The words rush out from my mouth in a flurry of choked whispers. “He has destroyed her to protect himself. He wanted me to leave you, so you would not figure it out and use me against him.”
“But you denied him.”
I nod numbly. “I did.”
“So he will come for you, instead. If he does not feel you drawing closer to him through the bond, he will collect you himself for the ritual.”
I look out at the glittering city.
“Does he know where we are?” he asks.
War has enough smarts to look on edge.
There’s no all-powerful arrogance etched onto his face, or haughtiness slicking his voice. He speaks with worry, and he should.
This is Death we are dealing with. A being so powerful and ancient that it will take more than War and Pestilence to bring him down.
And I want to bring him down.
After all the betrayals, the abandonments, the Sirens, the deceptive kisses, the forgiveness, and now this—his intent to sacrifice me for his own gain …
After all of it, my aching heart craves his destruction.
A Horsewoman scorned.
“He knows,” I answer distantly, watching the lights flicker in reds and whites—seemingly drawing closer. “But he will not come for us himself.”
War’s jaw is set, every muscle in his body gripped with the rage he was born into. “What makes you certain of this?”
“He sent them to weaken us first.”
Wearing a murderous look, War turns to trace my gaze to the glittering lights.
“Humans.”
Chapter 26
War is standing in a blink, his sword in his hand, leather armour clinging to his muscular form.
“Wait!” I cry out and scramble off the lounger.
We have only a minute or so before the humans are on us, and I do not fool myself into hoping they will not be using all of their arsenal on us.
They will bring all that they can, and that is all right.
In fact, that is ideal.
I snatch War’s wrist and suffer the incredulous glare he throws at me.
“We will survive this,” I plead.
His handsome face twists into something ugly and furious. “You dare—”
“This is more than sword against sword!” I shout, but weakness still clings to me, and I start to lean more of my weight onto War’s solid stance. “Let them believe they have defeated us. Let them destroy us, bury us in bullets. The humans will trick themselves into thinking we are gone—and then, we go after Death. I will not spend more energy than I can afford on those parasites—I will save it for Death.”
War’s expression shutters as he looks down at me.
Logic battles with his bloodlust and challenged pride. I can see the clash in his twisted mouth and feel it in the muscles that clench under my touch.
“Death is our greater enemy,” I say, fingernails cutting into his solid skin, firm like an armour of its own. “And only together do we have a chance at defeating him.”
Death is smart, but most of all, he’s cunning. There’s no one reason he leaked our location to the humans. Doing it would have been the easy part. He only had to whisper in the right ear, or reveal himself to a human powerful enough to throw forces at War and I.
Death has toyed with them like that before. Seeing how far they will go to save themselves. But he’s never tested me that way, never pushed my limits to see how far I will go for vengeance. That is his mistake.
“War.” Caution pulls my voice tight, like violin strings. “Death wants to weaken me even more. The humans’ attack can delay my healing. And you—he knows that your weakness is your pride and lust for violence. The humans are your bait.”
Feared Fables Box Set: Dark and Twisted Fairy Tale Retellings, (Feared Fables Box Sets Book 1) Page 44