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Death (The Four Horsemen #4)(145)

Author:Laura Thalassa

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?