I blanche.
War must see my expression because he adds, “You’re the only one who can get close enough.”
I have killed Death many times, but that was when I didn’t love the horseman.
I do now.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“Then we’re all doomed.” War’s eyes are hard. It’s the voice of a general, one who knows there’s no room for compassion on the battlefield, not when your enemy has none to offer.
But Death isn’t my enemy, and what he’s doing might be both misguided and wrong, but I don’t know that it’s evil. To be honest, I’m not really sure what evil is anymore.
Do this for Ben and everyone else who hasn’t yet lost their lives.
I breathe in hard through my nostrils, then nod, mostly to convince myself.
War holds my gaze with his shrewd one, and I feel like subliminally he’s saying, We all must make sacrifices. This is yours.
I realize then what he’s not saying—that while Famine and Pestilence are working to bring Death down from the sky, and while I’ll be priming to kill the un-killable horseman, War—mortal War—will be taking on the revenants alone.
He’s not going to survive this.
That’s why he’s giving me the intense look.
I draw in a deep breath. “I will do it,” I say. And I mean it, even if it means breaking my heart in the process.
Slowly, War nods. “Good.”
Still staring at me, he calls out, “Famine, Pestilence, Lazarus—it’s been an honor fighting at your sides. It will be an honor dying at them too. Let’s make it worth it.”
“Aww, don’t get emotional on us now,” Famine quips, but the set of his mouth is all wrong and his sharp eyes glisten.
“An honor,” Pestilence says, nodding to War.
I know nothing about honor and this whole glorious death business. Life still stretches out in front of me, vast and unfathomable and frightening.
But as the undead rush towards the horseman, I have to face all of it, just the same. I slash and kick and sometimes, when my guards get in the way, I shatter bone. My breath comes in pants as I try to be everywhere at once.
War is doing his best to aid his brothers, dragging the undead off of Famine’s makeshift cages as well as grabbing the last of Pestilence’s arrows and slipping them in to the horseman. While he does that, I shadow him, cutting down the creatures that are trying to break the warlord’s bones and tear his flesh.
Above us, clouds gather and the air shifts. A heavy drop of rain hits my head, then another and another. It begins to pelt down on us, washing away the grime but also making the revenants that much more … gooey.
Lightning flashes, and I draw my gaze up just as the bolt strikes Thanatos. His back arches a little as electricity courses through him, and my throat closes up at the sight. Another bolt drives down into Death. He hasn’t recovered from this one before a third slams into him. Famine strikes Thanatos again and again. With each hit, the horseman drops several feet before regaining his composure.
Do I feel bad that my true love is being roasted to death by supernatural bolts of lightning? Yes. Do I think he deserves it for being a bastard and forcing Judgment Day on everyone?
Also yes.
“Can’t steal souls now, brother, can you?” the Reaper taunts.
“That’s it, Famine!” Pestilence encourages, nocking an arrow into his bow while War slices through the revenants climbing up Pestilence’s cage.
Pestilence aims his bow, and for an instant, I stop fighting, just to watch. I can’t say what I feel. My emotions are in tangles. I want War’s plan to work; I’m also dreading that it will.
Pestilence releases his arrow, the projectile arcing towards Thanatos. Just as it closes in on Death, a gust of wind blows it asunder.
Of course, I forgot about this.
Pestilence curses, then pulls out another, aiming it then letting it fly. It too is blown off course at the last moment.
“I need some help with the wind!” Pestilence shouts.
“I’m a bit busy roasting this motherfucker!” Famine shouts back.
I resume smashing the bones of my captors and slicing off limbs of the undead, but it’s slow, aggravating work.
How many minutes do we have left before Death’s power reaches Ben and the others? I’m moving in a frenzy now, panicked by the thought that so much time has already passed, and yet our efforts haven’t gotten us very far.
Pestilence begins to aim not just at Death but around him too in the hopes that something might just get by the winged horseman and land where it needs to.