I’m usually better prepared than this. I’m also usually less spooked.
Just as I take a bite of my scone, I catch the eye of a young woman sitting with her friend. She looks repulsed by me.
I lift my cup of coffee and salute her. She looks away quickly.
I prop my legs on the chair across from me and lean back, taking a minute to just clear my mind and listen to the hum of conversation.
For a moment, it’s relaxing. But then I’m remembering the way Thanatos held me close to him, and the way his fingers stroked my skin. And his eyes, his stormy, depthless eyes … the way he looked at me felt like another touch. Everything about him seemed to promise— The panicked baying of dogs and the screech of messenger birds from the post office across the street cuts into my thoughts.
I lower my coffee just as the horses out on the street go wild, tearing off down the road, some with carts still attached to them. That’s when the true wave of animals sweeps through the town. Outside, people cry out at the stampede of creatures sprinting down the city streets.
“Fuck.”
I swing my feet off the chair. That’s all I have time to do.
It happens just like it did the first time Death rode through.
In an instant, everyone slumps over. Faces hit plates, waiters fall where they stand, the dishes they carry shattering against the ground. I hear the clatter of dropped silverware, and the delayed crash of some final glasses. Then— Silence.
Heavy, preternatural silence.
I set down my mug, ignoring the fact that my hand has started to tremble.
I stand, the scrape of my chair deafening amidst all that silence.
How? How did he figure out where I was so quickly? How did he get here so quickly? I myself only arrived half an hour ago.
You assumed this whole time you were the one hunting me down. Have you ever considered the possibility that I might’ve set my sights on you?
I’m moving before I can even fully figure out what I’m supposed to be doing. I push through the back doors of the restaurant, entering the kitchen area. A small fire has already broken out, the smell of smoke filling the room. I try not to look at the body that’s slumped over the stove, their clothes already going up in flame.
Instead I grab the knives I see, collecting as many as I can hold.
I re-enter the restaurant’s dining room.
“Lazarus!” Death’s voice echoes in the distance, carrying on the wind.
The hairs along my arms stand on end.
He really is hunting me.
I grab a brown leather satchel I see hanging off a nearby chair. Dumping out the bag’s contents, I drop the knives inside, then sling it over my shoulder.
“Come out, kismet!” Thanatos calls. “I know you’re in this city!”
Quickly, I leave the restaurant. My eyes scan the street, looking for the horseman.
“Lazarus!” Death’s voice seems to carry on the wind. I have no idea which direction it’s coming from.
I’m still looking for him when movement in the distance catches my eye. Far away, I catch sight of a skyscraper—something no one’s had a use for in quite some time. Only as I watch, floor after floor crumple like an accordion, the building falling into itself.
I can’t do anything but stare.
It hits the ground with an echoing groan. In its wake, a plume of ash and debris rise up.
“Come out, kismet. I don’t wish to bury you alive.”
My stomach flips.
This devil.
“Here I am, Thanatos!” I shout, refusing to hide like a mouse.
My voice reverberates around me, but I have no idea whether Death can hear it. It’s impossible to tell where exactly he is.
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see movement, but when I spin, there’s nothing there besides a few bodies and a stretch of open road. Off in the distance, another building begins to topple, drawing my attention back to San Antonio’s skyline.
“Lazarus.” Death’s voice echoes, slipping over my skin like the brush of fingertips.
I don’t have to wait long before I hear the thunderous thump of Death’s wings. He lands in front of me, his silver armor gleaming and his wings spread wide.
Behind him, another building collapses.
“Kismet.” He says the endearment like he’s savoring chocolate on his tongue. “Your time is up. Lay down your weapons,” he says.
“No,” I say.
“I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“So long as you’re killing everyone, we will be enemies,” I say.
Death strides up to me, and for once, I don’t immediately reach for my weapons.