“But,” I add, “mostly they are just unfiltered joy and potential. The world hasn’t yet worn away at them and they’re loving and happy.”
There’s a long pause.
“I don’t think I understand children any better than I did before I asked,” Death says.
I laugh a little. “I didn’t promise you I’d be any good at answering your questions.” I settle back against him. “Now will you tell me one of your secrets?” I say.
It’s quiet for several seconds.
“I do not like taking lives,” he admits softly.
I go still against him.
“What?” I turn in my seat, trying to see Thanatos better.
“I do not like taking lives,” he says again, more forcefully, his gaze almost challenging as he stares down at me.
That’s … I wasn’t expecting that at all. Death’s admitted before that he doesn’t enjoy violence, but not this.
“Unlike my brothers, I have never enjoyed it,” he continues. “I do it because I must, but, Lazarus, it is a terrible agony most of the time.”
Am I hearing him correctly? “But—”
“I am not saying that death is wrong,” he continues, “or that what lies beyond isn’t better. I am not even saying that I don’t believe in my task. But the act of taking someone who is scared of death, or who is happy with life, or who is not ready—and so few are ready—wearies me to the bone. I grimly do my job, but I have never gotten joy from taking a life.”
I am reeling.
“Is there joy in what you do?” I ask after a moment.
He’s quiet again.
“Yes,” he finally admits. “After I release them. When a soul sees what lies beyond, when they truly remember what they are and have been this entire time—that moment is joy.”
Chapter 51
U.S. Route 290, Central Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
It’s late. Or maybe I’m just exhausted from being in the saddle all day. Either way, my eyes are drooping before we’ve found a house to stop in for the night.
I fight to keep my eyelids open, and I think I’m doing a good enough job, except I’m drifting … I’ll just rest a moment— I jolt awake when Death catches my body slipping nearly off of the saddle.
“Lazarus?” Thanatos says, a note of worry in his voice. “Are you alright?”
“What?” I blink, forcing my thoughts to focus. The smoky smell of Death’s torch is thick in my nostrils, the scent oddly comforting. “Oh, yeah, just tired.” Even as I say it, I can feel myself drifting back off.
Death pulls his steed to a stop, then swings off.
“What are you doing?” I’m still too sleepy to be alarmed.
Rather than answering, I hear the clink of the horseman’s silver armor. He casts his breastplate off, then his vambraces and greaves. He doesn’t stop until every last piece lays in the dirt off to the side of the road.
Silently, he returns to the horse, swinging back on.
I stare at the armor, the metal giving off a dull gleam even in the middle of the night. “Why did you remove it?”
The horseman settles himself around me. “I’m still looking for a suitable house, kismet. In the meantime, you can sleep safely in my arms.”
It takes my slow mind another minute to realize that he removed the armor for my comfort.
Don’t feel it, don’t feel it, don’t— Warmth spreads through my core, and I’m touched at the gesture, even though I don’t want to be. It’s not the same weightless feeling I’ve been getting around him more and more frequently. This feeling has depth to it, and it’s far scarier than anything else I’ve felt for Thanatos up until now.
Death clicks his tongue, his steed starting forward again. I settle against the horseman, still unnerved. Thanatos drapes an arm over my shoulder and across my chest, like some sort of makeshift horseman seatbelt.
I lean my head against that arm and let myself drift off.
“I’ve found us a house, Lazarus.”
Briefly, Death’s voice pulls me from sleep, but almost immediately I slip back into it. In some far off region of my mind, I’m aware of being pulled from his horse and carried into a house.
I’m laid on a bed and someone’s tugging off my boots. I stretch a little, then flop onto my stomach. A minute later, I feel the comforting weight of a blanket.
Death’s lips brush against my temple. “Sleep well, … love.”
And I do.