“And your others are not?” I challenge. I’ve seen him kill off cities, collapse buildings, grow plants, change the weather, and raise the dead.
“No.”
“You are wrong,” I tell him fervently. “This one, this power, is a miracle.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps. “You think you understand my powers better than I do?” Death says hotly. “You think I am so blinded by my purpose that I cannot see the truth for what it is?” His nostrils flare. “There is a reason life begins with birth and not resurrection. This is no miracle,” he vows.
I don’t believe him, I do think he’s blinded by his purpose.
“Please,” I say, even though it’s futile. The man who won’t spare a single city definitely won’t bring someone back from the dead.
I feel my hope splintering apart, but I won’t let this go. I won’t.
The horseman stares at me for a long moment.
“Fine,” he growls.
I open my mouth, ready to argue— Fine?
… Does this mean he’s going to do it?
“Seriously?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.
Death looks as incensed as I’ve ever seen him. Incensed, but resolved. “I will show you the futility of what you ask,” he says darkly.
I close my mouth, my pulse pounding so fast I feel vaguely ill.
He’s going to do it.
“Who would you like me to bring back?” he demands, the same angry gleam in his eyes.
My lips part as we stare each other down. There are so many people I could choose. My friends, my neighbors, my birth parents, my siblings.
But in the end, I choose the one person who saved me. It’s my turn to save her.
“Jill Gaumond, my mother.”
Chapter 62
Interstate 10, Southern California
September, Year 27 of the Horsemen
A muscle in Death’s jaw flexes. He turns on his heel and walks away from me, his boots crunching over the dead shrubbery. I stare after him, wondering if he’s unwilling to do this after all.
“Are you coming or not?” he calls over his shoulder.
Oh.
I follow him, feeling more and more uneasy with every step I take. There’s nothing out here—just miles and miles of desert brush and lonely hills. I glance around me, but all is as it always is.
Thanatos stops and holds a hand out towards the ground. He still looks angry, and the sight unnerves me. I step up next to him, unsure what’s about to happen.
Then I sense it.
My skin pricks as a cool breeze sweeps through, rustling the nearby shrubs. At our feet dirt begins to rise, creating a human-sized mound. Dirt sloughs off the mound, and the hairs along my arms rise as, out of the earth itself, the body takes shape. Hips and legs and shoulders, breasts and fingers and toes and a face.
A face.
I barely have time to care that the woman is naked before I fall to my knees next to her, a sob slipping from my lips. I can’t look away from that face—my mother’s face. One I was sure I would never see again.
For a moment, she lays there, unmoving.
Death glances over at me, his lips pressed together grimly.
And then—
My mother’s chest rises as she takes in a deep breath, and then her eyes flutter open.
“Mom.” My voice breaks, and then I’m helping her sit up, the last of the dirt slipping from her body as I do so.
I should probably give her a second, but just seeing her eyes blink and her body move—seeing her alive—I can’t help but do the one thing I’ve wanted to do since I lost her.
I hug her tightly to me.
“I love you,” I whisper. I barely manage to get the words out before I’m crying. “I’ve been so lost without you.” So, so lost. All of my long-held strength comes crashing down; I’m just a kid who needs her mom.
I feel the light, almost confused press of her fingertips against my arm. Then, next to my ear, my mom lets out a wail. The sound raises the hairs at the back of my neck.
It trails off into a whimper.
“Wh—what is this?” she whispers.
I pull away in time to see her looking at her arms and hands with spooked eyes.
A keening sound works its way up her throat. “What’s happening? Why am I here?” She reaches for her hair, then pulls on it, like she’s considering ripping it out.
“Mom,” I say, glancing frantically at Death, but he’s standing stiffly off to the side. “Mom,” I say again. I catch her hands and squeeze tightly. “It’s me, your daughter.”
To Thanatos, I say, “Can you get her a blanket?”
Without responding, he turns on his heel and heads over to his horse.
My mom’s frightened, wild eyes shift to me.
She sucks in a breath. “Lazarus.”
I press my lips together to hold back another sob, and then I’m nodding, even as tears slip down my face.
“What is going on … ?” Her words trail off into another moan, and my mom’s eyes unfocus. She pinches them shut, shaking her head as she starts rocking back and forth.
“Mom—Mom.” I’m trying not to panic, but I feel my anxiety rising. She seems so distressed. “It’s okay, I’m here.” I practically choke on the words. Just like that, I force myself to gather together my strength once more.
Behind me, I can hear Death’s boots crunching over the parched shrubs as he makes his way to us.
Wordlessly he steps up to my side, handing me a blanket.
“Thank you,” I murmur, shaking it out and wrapping it around my mother.
My mom doesn’t seem to notice. She’s still rocking back and forth, a distant, haunted look in her eyes. As I watch, she brings a hand up to her face and begins to sob.
My heart plummets as I stare at her, feeling both helpless and terrified.
I glance over my shoulder at Death. “Why is she acting like this?” I ask, my voice high and panicked.
“I already told you why,” Death says, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. “Your mother doesn’t belong here. She knows it, I know it. It is only you, Lazarus, who cannot accept that the dead do not wish to return to life.”
His words are like a physical blow.
I rotate back to my mom and place a hand on her back. “Mom. Mom,” I say. “You’re alive.”
“No,” she moans again, shaking her head and closing her eyes like she can shut out the truth.
I stare at her, aghast, something sick churning in my stomach.
“Death brought you back. He took your life unfairly,” I say.
She begins to laugh, and I think she’s lost it completely, but then she opens her eyes and they sharpen on me.
“Lazarus Gaumond, my beloved daughter, shame on you for doing this.”
For a moment, I don’t react to her words. I simply can’t. Once more I’m that lost, confused child, my heart breaking.
“Now you listen to me,” she says sounding just like her old self. My chest aches—it aches so damn bad—because this is my mom. Not the wailing creature I held in my arms, but this lively, take-no-bullshit woman. And clearly this situation has gone sideways, but only yesterday I would’ve given anything to hear her scolding me.
And now I get that.
“Whatever you have done to bring me here, you undo it.” Her eyes move to Death. “You undo it,” she repeats to him.
He stands motionless.
She turns back to me, her body trembling as though in shock. “I don’t want to be here, Laz. I lived, I loved, and I died,” she says carefully. “And you don’t get to change the rules.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and my tears, which never really stopped, are coming faster now.
She reaches out, uncaring that the blanket has slid off her shoulders, exposing her once more. She cups my face in her hand. “I love you, Lazarus. You are strong and brave and I know you have endured so much more than what should be asked of you. You do me proud. But right now baby, you need to let me go.”
“Mom,” I protest.
“My time has come and gone. Let me go, my sweet girl.”
I begin to sob, my whole body shaking. My mother pulls me in for a hug, and I can feel her own body trembling.
“Let me go,” she murmurs to me over and over, stroking my hair. “Let me go.”
And I’m sobbing in her arms and this is all I get, and I know it’s more than anyone else gets, but I still feel robbed.
Reluctantly, I begin to nod. “Okay, Mom,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.