For a while, his warning to stay awake is enough to keep me alert. But the hours tick by and there’s nothing to do but stare into the darkness.
I don’t mean to slip off to sleep. To be honest, I would’ve sworn I hadn’t fallen asleep, but suddenly I’m roused by cool fingers brushing my hair back from my ear. For a moment, I’ve forgotten the situation, and that touch is so gentle that I lean into it.
A moment later, lips replace those fingers.
“I was so intrigued at the thought of being your captive, Laz, I almost stayed put,” Death whispers against my ear. “But I have work to do.”
I stiffen at the sound of his voice, panic flooding my veins. He’s broken free.
“Maybe next time,” he adds, “you can be my captive.”
“Thanat—” Just as I’m turning to face him, my hand reaching for my weapon, Death’s hands find either side of my face. He twists my neck violently and—
Snap.
Death
I have taken countless lives over the ages. The young, the old, the strong and weak. I thought I had seen it all.
I had not.
I have never encountered a creature willing to die over and over again for her own kind. Not even my brothers were capable of this. We horsemen have all died more than once, but never for anything more tangible than our task.
Watching Lazarus pit herself against such insurmountable odds is unsettling.
Unsettling and beguiling.
I am eager to see her again.
Chapter 16
Kansas City, Missouri
December, Year 26 of the Horsemen
Lazarus
Things have changed between us. That much has become obvious.
The two of us face off on the streets of Kansas City, bodies and broken buildings scattered in all directions.
“I have been thinking,” Thanatos says, his boots crunching over shattered glass. “We could stop fighting.”
“We could,” I agree, gripping my knife tighter. My other blade is now in Death’s hand. “You only have to end the killing.”
His eyes flash. “I cannot. You know I cannot.”
The horseman begins to circle me.
“So what you’re really asking is for me to stop defending humanity,” I say, turning my body with him so that my back is never exposed.
Out of nowhere, the horseman lunges forward, and I have to leap out of the way. Despite the chill air, sweat drips down my chest.
“It is as useless a task as it is thankless,” Death says, retreating back a step.
I rush forward as he moves away, swinging my knife.
Clang. The short blades meet.
Death leans his weight against our locked weapons, forcing me down to a knee.
“It’s not thankless,” I pant. I drop my free hand to the ground. There are pebbles and shards of glass and other debris dusting the road. My hand closes around a fistful of it. “Sometimes I best you, and that is very, very gratifying.”
I fling the rubble at his face, causing him to stumble back, his blade sliding from mine with a zing.
Dropping my own knife, I dive towards him, catching the horseman by one of his ankles.
He trips, then falls.
Before he has a chance to get up, I crawl over to the horseman, and then, hesitating only a moment, I pull myself onto him, swinging a leg over his torso.
I’m breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling with my exertion.
For a moment, Thanatos looks bewildered. He expects my attacks; what he doesn’t expect is to find me sitting astride him, weaponless.
Well, nearly weaponless.
“What are you doing?” Death demands.
I lean forward, grabbing one of his wrists.
Death’s gaze unwittingly moves to my cleavage, which is more on display than usual, thanks to a well-placed slice of his knife.
Thanatos stares … and stares, and it would be fucking rude except this horseman clearly has never come face-to-face with boobs.
“What are you doing?” he echoes, but his voice has roughened.
Breasts are, apparently, his undoing.
I grab his other hand, bringing the two of them over his head. I lean forward as I do so until The Girls are up close and personal with Thanatos.
Did I plan on distracting Death with my tits today?
No.
Will I take it?
Yes.
“I’m subduing you.” As I speak, I unhook the rope I have at my waist. I didn’t plan on this, but … like I said, things have changed between us.
“You’re subduing me?” Death murmurs distractedly. He’s still staring at my cleavage.
While he’s busy discovering hormones, I begin binding his wrists together above his head. After our last encounter, I’ve discovered that ties won’t hold him forever, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, this rope is much thicker than the clothing line I used last time.
Thanatos’s eyes finally move away from my cleavage, flicking up to my face.
Death’s gaze sharpens. “I want you.” The words rip free from him.
Absolute silence follows in their wake.
I don’t know who’s more shocked, him or me. The admission is so unexpected and so grotesquely inappropriate, given that the two of us are mortal enemies—or immortal ones, but whatever.
I wait for Death to take the words back, or at least qualify them. He doesn’t.
I turn back to my work, ready to pretend the last twenty seconds away, but my hands have begun to tremble, and I can’t seem to secure the knot around his wrists as tight as I’d like.
“Look at me,” Thanatos demands softly.
I shake my head.
“Lazarus, look at me.”
“I don’t take orders from a horseman,” I say, dragging in a deep breath.
He lets out a low laugh, one that raises the hairs on my arms. “You won’t look at me because you feel it too, and you know I’d see it in your eyes.”
“You are delusional,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him grin, and my stomach does a weird flip at the sight.
Finish what you started, I command myself, refocusing on the knot. My hands, however, are still shaking.
“We keep fighting this pull between us,” Death says.
“There is no pull between us,” I say adamantly. “You are my enemy.”
“Oh, there is a pull between us.”
I glare down at him. “There isn’t.”
Thanatos stares deeply into my eyes. After a moment, a slow grin spreads across his face. “There it is. You want me too.”
“How would you even know what want looks like?” I accuse.
“There are many souls who crave me, in the end,” he says.
People who crave death, he means.
I frown. “Well, I’m not one of them.”
His grin only grows, making my stomach flutter in the most infuriating way.
“I’m not,” I say defensively. “You’re beautiful. That’s all.”
Dear God, did I actually just say that out loud?
The horseman’s expression grows more intense, his eyes seeming to burn. “You think I’m beautiful.”
Death no longer needs to kill me, I think my own embarrassment will do the job just fine.
Why did I say that?
His gaze is still heated, his expression still challenging me.
“Aren’t you tired of all this?” He nods towards the ruins of Kansas City. “Aren’t you tired of the fighting, the struggle, the pain?”
God, but I am. For every town I save, there are at least five others I can’t.
“Of course I’m tired.”
Tired to my bones.
It doesn’t change anything.
Death’s gaze gentles and he says softly, “Then come with me.”
For a moment, the offer sounds unbearably good, like falling into bed after a long day.
I stare into Thanatos’s eyes, which ar
e full of so many secrets. So, so many secrets.
“Come with me,” he says again.
I could. No more fighting. No more exhaustion. I’d just … give in. Perhaps I cannot die and my body can never know true and final peace, but this seems like a close second.
“We would just keep fighting,” I argue with myself out loud.
“What if we decided to stop hurting one another?” he counters, and he’s the devil in my ear. “I despise seeing you suffer, and I know it’s no different for you.”
My heart is beating fast. He’s saying all the right things, and I am being lured in by those sweet promises.
Which is why I get off of him and force myself to back up.
“You’re not taking me anywhere,” I say. Assuming, of course, that I bind up his feet—and his wings too. I have more rope in my bag, but my bag is across the street, and getting to it means giving this horseman my back.
He lays there on the ground, then laughs, the sound building on itself. “Do you truly think you are in control?” he says. “That despite your previous failed efforts, you can just tie me up and walk away?”
All at once he lifts his bound wrists, then rips them apart, the rope tearing like tissue.
I stumble back, my eyes wide.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
With catlike grace, the horseman pushes himself to his feet. He straightens, his black wings folding at his back.
He paces towards me. “I think we’ve already discovered that I make a poor captive,” he says carefully. “I slip my restraints a little too easily.”
Thanatos stops several feet from me. He extends his hand. “Let there be no more pain between us. No more strife. Come with me, Lazarus.”
I’m still shaken by his show of strength, and that I sat on his chest for minutes, and in all that time, he could’ve ripped the rope apart and grabbed me.
But he didn’t.
And now … his offer and his earnest expression wriggle their way under my skin.
No more pain. No more gnawing loneliness. No more scheming and breaking myself trying to stop this man.
It’s overwhelmingly alluring.
I take a step towards him.
Death’s eyes alight with some intense emotion.
I reach for his outstretched hand, giving into this moment of weakness. My hand hovers over his open palm.
Only then do I hesitate.
My gaze flicks up to Thanatos. Thanatos, who might stop fighting me, but who will never, ever stop the rampage. Thanatos who wants me to give up everything while he concedes nothing.
“No.” Even as I say it, I drop my hand and back away from him.
My heart is still racing. The tides are changing between us. I no longer feel like the hunter and him the hunted, and I have the craziest fear that if Death gets close enough to me again, he will try to snatch me.
“Don’t go, Lazarus,” he pleads.
I hesitate again. I don’t know why I do. I just … I wasn’t expecting this monster to have such a peculiar offer for me, nor was I expecting to be so seduced by it.
And I have no idea what to say to him now. So I settle for shaking my head as I put distance between us.
Death’s gaze narrows. “Mark my words, kismet: this is the last time I’ll give you the choice.” And then, as casual as can be, he calls his steed forth, mounts the beast, and rides off.
Chapter 17
Austin, Texas
December, Year 26 of the Horsemen
I’ve lain in wait for the horseman now two dozen times? Three dozen? Four? It all blurs together. And with each city I pass, my sharp grief and seething anger fades a little more.
Aren’t you tired of the fighting?
What if we decided to stop hurting one another?
“Place your best sharpshooters at all the main roads entering and exiting the city,” I say to Austin’s chief of police, Wyatt Davenport. “You only get one chance to kill the horseman. If an arrow goes wide or fails to instantly kill him, everyone dies.”
I’ve increasingly tried to confront the horseman before he can reach a city, but many times I can’t avoid it. Hence, how I’ve found myself in the room with Austin’s chief of police.
Chief Davenport pulls himself up a little straighter from where he sits in his chair. “We’ve received Oklahoma City’s warnings, and we’ve heard the stories from others who’ve stumbled across the bodies,” he says, somewhat defensively. “We are already aware of the horseman’s existence, and we have plans already in place.”
“He kills in an instant,” I say. “I’ve seen it firsthand.” So many, many times. “You need to evacuate everyone if you can. He’s coming from the North—” I stand and point to the highway I took into Austin. “Most likely he’ll use this road. It would be best to have civilians avoid it and to place most—”
“I will decide what is best for our city,” Chief Davenport says, cutting me off. He scrutinizes me again. “Who referred you again?”
I can feel my bones wearying. “The fire chief.”
I am tired. So, so tired.
Tired of explaining this to people who don’t want to believe it. Tired of waiting, bow poised, for Death to ride down that road. Tired of the long days and the short nights. Tired of the ever-present fear that I carry with me.
Tired of hurting Death. Fighting him.
Maybe I should just give in. It is all inevitable.
I push the seductive thought away.
“The fire chief,” he echoes, looking at me as though I’m a liar. I don’t know if it’s my gender, my authority, or what, but something about me rubs this man all wrong. “And where is he? Samuel would’ve made a point to be here himself if he felt it was important.”
“I don’t know why the fire chief isn’t here,” I say, exasperated.
The chief of police settles back into his seat, his gaze flicking over my shoulder to the door, as though he’s trying to figure out the fastest way to end this meeting.
“How do you even know the horseman is coming this way?” Davenport asks, scrutinizing me again, his expression shrewd. “Am I really supposed to believe some girl who just happened to roll on into my city spouting stories where everyone dies—except for her, of course—really holds the answers that no one else does?” He gives me a hard look. “Sharpshooters,” he mutters, shaking his head.
This is where he assumes I have some sort of elaborate plan to get everyone out of their homes so that I can rob them blind.
I’m so tired.
I haven’t told the chief of police the part about me being un-killable. I don’t think I have it in me today to tell that truth. So instead, I point to the map in front of him.
“That’s my evidence. Look at the cities he’s hit. There’s a pattern to it. And if you follow that pattern, you’ll see that it leads right through Austin. You said yourself that Oklahoma City reached out. You know there are—”
“Do not presume to tell me what I know,” the police chief says, his voice like steel.
I tighten my jaw, forcing myself to remain silent about the presumptions this man has made about me.
“Death likes the big cities,” I say instead. “He’ll be here soon.”
“Based on a bunch of scribbles you made on some map.” Chief Davenport pushes the paper back to me. “Enough of this hogwash. Get out of my—”
“There is one other reason,” I rush to say.
He grimaces with his impatience, but waits.
“Death is coming this way because I am here,” I say grimly. “He’s after me.”
At my words, the chief of police sits back in his chair. He stares at me, and I can practically see the wheels in his mind turning. The moment stretches on, growing uncomfortable.
“Hey, Jones,” he finally calls out, looking at the doorway.
I glance over my shoulder just as Officer Jones, the man stationed outside, pokes his head into the room. The chief of police beckons him in.
Officer
Jones steps into the room, looking between the two of us.
Chief Davenport turns his attention back to me. “So, Death is following you?”
I can’t tell whether he finally believes me. His expression is unreadable.
I glance from him to Officer Jones before responding. “Yes,” I say slowly.
“Well, then,” Davenport says, leaning back in his seat. “If it’s you he’s after, then it’s you he’ll get.” His gaze cuts to the other man. “Officer Jones.”
He’s no more than spoken his name when the policeman grabs me.
“What are you—?” I tussle with the officer as he grabs my wrists. I slam my boot down onto his instep.
“Fuck,” he swears as his hold loosens.
Can’t believe this is happening. Any of it.
I manage to slip out of the room. God, am I really running from the authorities now?
Two more officers chat at the end of the hall. The moment they see me breathlessly exit the room, they stiffen, their attention turning to me.
I dart in the opposite direction.
I have lots of experience killing deities, but I have very little experience when it comes to this.
The door behind me bangs open and Officer Jones barrels out. I haven’t made it ten feet when he gains on me. The policeman gives me a hard shove from behind. I stumble, then fall to the linoleum floor. He’s on me in an instant, dragging my wrists together and cuffing me while the two other officers close in.
“This is ridiculous!” I huff. “What are you doing?” I begin to thrash against them.
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is happening.
I hear Chief Davenport’s heavy footfalls. He comes over to where I’m being cuffed. “Men, this one is not to be booked in the county jail.”
The officers hesitate. Whatever protocol they have in place for criminals, it’s clear that the chief of police wants them to deviate from it.
“This little miss seems to think that a horseman is coming our way.” Davenport’s mouth twists, like he’s suppressing a smirk. “Lucky for us, the man is apparently looking for her.”
The officers’ eyes move over me, though I can’t guess what is going through their heads.
Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) Page 7
