I will not let her go.
The entire world could burn to ash, and I would not care, but I will not give Lazarus up. Not my Lazarus.
I was given a brief human experience—one filled with horror and tragedy but then, most powerful of all, beauty and hope and love. I was given it, and tonight I almost slipped wholeheartedly into that existence, I nearly threw away everything for it.
That’s what Pestilence did.
It’s what War did.
It’s what Famine has been trying to do.
It is what I cannot do.
I’ve questioned my own motives for too long. But this must end. It is what we horsemen were sent here to do. It is what I will do.
And nothing, nothing—not even Lazarus—will stop me.
Part III
Chapter 68
Los Angeles, California
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Lazarus
The next morning, I pad into the dining room where a spread of eggs, toast, and fresh fruit waits for us. I’m so distracted by it that I almost miss Thanatos. He stands at the back of the room, in front of the massive windows that look out onto the yard and the ocean beyond.
“I was wrong,” he says, his back to me.
I round the table.
“Good morning to you too,” I say, reaching for the steaming mug of coffee that’s been set out for me. Snagging the nearby creamer, I pour a little in.
Death still doesn’t turn around. It’s a small thing, but it pricks the back of my neck all the same.
“What were you wrong about?” I ask, my voice wary. I pull out a chair and slip into the seat.
“Staying here.”
I raise my eyebrows as I grab a piece of toast. Ah. He needs to keep moving, and no amount of beach sex can distract him from that.
This had been a blissful escape, but I’m also eager to leave, to go get Ben. Now that we’re on the West Coast, he seems tantalizingly close, even if hundreds and hundreds of miles still separate us.
“Do you think any of this was random?” Thanatos says, out of the blue. “That God hasn’t reached Her hand in and played you like a puppet?”
My brows pull together. Right now the horseman has this ominous energy about him that’s setting me on edge.
“What are you talking about?” I say.
“Did you really think it was random when your mother found you as a child?” he says, still staring out those windows. “Or when you found Ben alive in a city of dead, despite the fact that he is painfully mortal—did you think that was random too?”
His words make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge.
“How about our paths crossing? What about that? Or when you met the other horsemen just in time for them to save your son and take him away?”
Death turns to me then, and his eyes look so sad. “Do you really think any of it was random? Because it wasn’t. That was intercession. It happens to humans all the time, but you’re all so blinded by your own perceptions of reality that you miss it. You miss the most potent forces of magic in your lives even when they unfold right before you.”
My heart is beating so loudly I’m sure the horseman can hear it. “Why are you telling me this?”
He takes a step towards me, his eyes magnetic. “Because it’s happening again—right now.”
I stand then, the chair scraping back; it feels too weird to sit when Thanatos isn’t himself.
Something must be wrong.
The horseman strides towards me, and I have to fight myself not to take a step back. When he reaches me, he cups my cheeks. He looks so mournful.
His eyes search mine. “I still wouldn’t change any of it—except for maybe the ending. But it’s too late for that.”
Before I can ask him what he means, he kisses me, the fierce press of his lips somewhat startling.
Thanatos breaks away just as abruptly. “I love you, kismet,” he says, his jaw clenching. “I love you with everything I am. Please don’t forget that.”
My brows draw together. “Why would I forget that?”
But the horseman has already let me go. He strides away from the room, and I watch him leave, baffled at his behavior, I get the oddest sense that for the first time in a long time, he’s fleeing me again.
Death’s strange behavior lasts all morning. He’s kept his distance from me, and there’s a gnawing fear festering in my heart. I can’t figure out what’s wrong, only that something is off. For once, I feel uncertain around Thanatos.
Even when we leave the beach house for good, the horseman keeps his distance, walking ahead of me.
I stand at the front porch, watching those folded wings of his sway with each step. My gut is telling me that something isn’t right.
He admitted to you that he loved you. He slept next to you and ate your food. Perhaps it’s not that something isn’t right. Perhaps he’s just different. Changed.
Reluctantly, I rejoin Death at his horse. Smoke coils around the animal, Thanatos’s torch already secured to the side of the saddle. All around us, skeletons are loading our belongings into the carts. I’m all for keeping a steady clip to our travels. Still, when I glance back at the house, there’s a lump in my throat.
Things between us changed here, and I am afraid once we get on that horse, they might change back to the way they were.
I sense Death’s eyes on me, and I rotate to face him. Like earlier, he still looks a little melancholy, but then, maybe I’m just reading into things. Maybe I’m reading into all of this.
“What?” I say, a little self-consciously.
“What were you thinking, just then?” he asks.
My attention returns to the house, with the bougainvillea growing up its walls and that weathervane perched on its roof. Even from here I can hear the ocean crashing in the distance.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I admit.
Now I know I’m not imagining Thanatos’s sadness when his gaze sweeps over our surroundings. “As will I, Lazarus.”
Reluctantly, I hoist myself onto Thanatos’s steed. The horseman settles in behind me, and without another backwards glance, the two of us leave.
We head north, up one of L.A.’s many highways. The few bodies we pass are already decaying, and the faint smell of death permeates the air, even over the incense burning from his torch.
Death holds me tighter than usual, like I might slip away.
“Thanatos,” I say, placing my hand over his, “You can let up—” I pause when I notice the tremor in his hand.
“You’re trembling,” I say.
“It’s nothing.”
Something isn’t right. And if I’m being honest with myself, it hasn’t been right since I woke up this morning.
“What is going on?” I demand.
Nothing.
“Thanatos,” I say, “As long as I have known you, you have never skirted around hard truths,” I say. “Is it that bad?” I ask.
Ominous silence.
Finally— “I love you, Lazarus. Everything is going to be alright.”
I’m beginning to panic. His viselike grip only tightens further.
I reach for his hand again. “Why are you holding me so tightly?”
But then it hits me—
He thinks I’m going to run.
And now I have to wonder what could possibly be so bad that he thinks I’m going to flee him. He’s raised the dead, killed entire cities, and done just about every other frightening thing in the book.
“Whatever it is, Death, you can tell me about it,” I say, trying to sound reasonable when internally panic is setting in.
Is it another terrible power? Is it—Ben?
“My son,” I say. “Is he okay?”
“Your son is fine,” Death says grimly.
For a moment, I’m placated.
Perhaps whatever mood has wormed its way under Thanatos’s skin is not so bad.