“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.
“Please,” I beg the chief of police. “However you think this is going to unfold, you’re wrong.”
“I listened to your story,” Davenport snaps, “now it’s time for you to shut up and listen to me, young lady: Maybe you’re lying and want to fuck with my city, maybe you’re telling the truth and the horseman really is on his way here.
“It doesn’t really matter because at the end of the day, we’re going to truss you up like a hog, and let the horseman—if he really is coming—get to you first.”
That’s his plan?
Who had the poor sense to put this man in a leadership role?