I blink my eyes open, and— Agony. Blazing, suffocating agony. It’s all I feel—that and the rivulets of blood soaking my chest as they leave my body.
“I’m sorry, Laz. It will be alright soon,” Thanatos vows. “It will be.”
He places a hand over the wound, and I hiss in a breath. Even that light touch is brutally painful.
I feel Death’s power brush against my skin. I wait for my flesh to warm and itch as my body stitches itself back together.
Only—
“It’s not working.” Panic laces the horseman’s voice.
The most powerful creature cannot heal me. I gasp up at him.
That desperate plea of mine, that bolt of light behind my eyes …
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.
I think … I think I have been made truly mortal.
Terror lances through me. I’ve never feared death before because I never actually stayed dead.
But this time around, this one feels like it’s going to take.
Oh God, I thought I’d have more time. Endless time.
I close my eyes, exhausted from the pain.
I want to say I’m at peace, but fuck, I feel like I’m leaving before the closing act.
“Thanatos,” I murmur. I blindly reach for his hand.
I especially don’t want to leave him. He’s all the reasons I want to live.
“Laz …”
Laz. I open my eyes at the intimacy of that name.
I meet Thanatos’s gaze. Fear fills his eyes. He’s afraid too. But it’s only death. It’s his most natural state.
“’S okay,” I breathe, even as I start to shiver.
He hold on me tightens. “No, Lazarus, I’m not going to let you go,” he vows.
“Life and death are lovers.” I remind him. “Nothing … changes that.” I squeeze his hand. “I love you,” I finally admit.
His expression crumbles. “No.” He says it like a plea, a tear slipping out from the corner of his eye.
My eyes begin to close.
“Lazarus, stay with me.”
But my stubborn body ignores his commands.
He kisses my lips, and even in that act I feel the desperate press of his power, willing me to live.
It makes no difference.
With that kiss, my breath stills, my heart stops, and I am finally, truly released.
Death
The moment my lips leave hers, I know.
She’s gone.
And for the first time since I met her, I feel her spirit untangle itself from her body.
No.
Lazarus’s immortality is not so different than ours. It can be removed.
It’s been removed.
In the distance Famine laughs, a wheezy, wet sound. I can’t think of a more inappropriate reaction.
“She made another deal behind your back, brother,” he says.
My breath catches as I stare down at my Lazarus.
Did you? I silently ask her.
But of course she must’ve. She couldn’t remove her immortality herself. And there is only one person who can freely take and give life.
God has forsaken me.
“Finally, you understand as we have all been made to understand,” Famine wheezes. “You cannot have both. You must make a choice.” Famine wheezes.
“The choice has been taken from me,” I spit out.
“It hasn’t.”
I glance up at him then. I can feel my steady heart pick up at what he’s insinuating.
My hand shakes as I glance back down at Lazarus. Lazarus who was never supposed to die.
Lazarus bargained for humanity. I don’t know if the voice in my head is my own, or Hers. This form muddles my extra senses. What will you do? It is your decision in the end.
“It’s not my decision,” I say vehemently. I’ve only ever followed the universe’s orders.
My gaze passes over Famine before touching on the still forms of Pestilence and War. My three brothers were willing to do everything to stop me. I’d accepted their decision to fight for humanity. I’d even understood the deep drive that fueled them. They loved their wives and their children, and they all came around to appreciating humanity—Famine and his hardened heart included.
I have seen each of my brothers clutch their woman in death. I’ve heard their bargains. I thought myself above it all.
And now here I am, with this woman of flesh and blood, who fought me and fueled me, and who loved me. The woman who I am hopelessly in love with.
“Take your woman and run, Thanatos,” Famine breathes.
“I cannot.” My voice breaks.
I have never once broken the rules. Not in all my long years of existence. I have delivered every single soul to its afterlife.
Just as I will hers.
I have to take her.
I’m heaving as I lay her body gently down.
“Fool,” Famine whispers.
I rise and face Lazarus’s soul. It is every bit as brilliant as I knew it would be.
Clasping her close, I slip us into the world of spirits, and I take my kismet to the afterlife.
Chapter 74
The Beyond
October, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Lazarus
Death is … the wrong word for this. Death is an ending, but this isn’t an ending at all. It feels like a beginning. Like rebirth.
Transmutation.
I smile—or at least, I feel like I’m smiling even though I’m not sure I’m solid. I honestly don’t know what I am, just that I exist and I am aware.
I look around. Wherever I am, muted light surrounds me. I take a step back, my body—or essence—bumps into something solid.
I turn, and the first thing I see is that gleaming silver armor, then those large black wings. Finally, my eyes settle on that beloved face that I swear I’ve always known.
“Thanatos.” I say his name softly. I thought I had left him, but of course not, he is death. “You were right, this isn’t so bad.”
But now I notice how agonized his eyes still are.
Rather than answering, Death looks down. I follow his gaze, and the muted light blows away in wisps, as though it were merely thick smoke. Below, I see my lifeless body resting among the wreckage.
Finally, the fighting is over. And I lost—all of humanity lost—but this isn’t so bad. That urge to beg and plead, to leverage and threaten and bargain my way into some compromise is gone. The time for that passed with my life.
Death takes my spectral hand and I grip his tightly. As I watch, my body below grows smaller and smaller, as though we’re floating away from it.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Thanatos’s grieving eyes burn as they look at me. “Founipa.”
Heaven.
The dim light around us brightens, and it’s like sun breaking through the clouds.
In the distance, figures appear. At least, I think they’re figures. To be honest, they’re more impressions of people than actual, physical bodies. Instead of skin and bones, their forms seem to be made of light.
As they come into focus, I begin to recognize them. At the front, there’s my mom. Then there’s River, and Nicolette, and Robin, and Ethan, Owen and Juniper. I see my nieces and nephews—I even see Harrison, my adoptive father; I’ve only ever known him through pictures, and yet he’s still here, welcoming me.
Near the front of the group are two more people who I have no memory of, and yet I inherently know them. My birth parents.
I make a small noise. They’re all here, all waiting for me. And though it makes no sense, I can feel their love for me.
You’re loved. You’re home.
I glance over at Thanatos and his tormented eyes.
Death the ferryman, who takes souls and delivers them, but does not join the dead. Death, who belongs neither to earth, nor to the afterlife.
He belongs with me. That is the one thing I am certain of.
He releases my hand to touch my cheek. “I will dream of you every day, Lazarus.” He looks as though he’s burning in his own sort of hell.
“Come with me,” I insist.
“I cannot,” he says, his voice hoarse. Worse, I feel his devastation as though it’s my own.
He gives me a tight smile, and nods to the people waiting for me. “Go to your loved ones. They are waiting for you.”