Damnit.
I release his bound wrists. “Why don’t you focus on counting—wouldn’t want to give me any extra time,” I say, stepping away.
Death laughs darkly, the sound making the hair at the nape of my neck stand on end. “You’re not going anywhere,” he vows.
My stomach dips at the certainty in his voice.
“Turn around,” I command.
Again, I don’t expect him to follow my words, but he does. The horseman faces me once more, his eyes full of dark anticipation.
He smirks. “What about my wings?” he asks. “Shall you bind them too? I’m rather enjoying being tied up for you.”
I pull out one of the blades from my bag and use it to cut off the bottom of my shirt. This, too, he’ll be able to rip away in seconds, but if he’s willing to play my game for the next ten odd minutes, it’ll subdue him for at least a little while.
Gripping the fabric, I step up to him.
“Kneel.”
Thanatos stares down at me for a long time, that same look in his eyes. Never glancing away, he moves down on one knee, then both.
I bring the cloth up to his eyes, blindfolding him with it.
“Killing me would be easier,” he says.
It would be. I have to hide my swallow. The awful truth is that I’ve come to care about this horseman’s pain. Enough to stay my hand.
So instead I tie the knot extra tight behind his head, ignoring Death’s beautiful features and the silky soft texture of his hair. I can’t help, however, the strange sensations his scent conjures.
Him holding me fast to his chest, his fingers caressing my face …
“Come with me,” Death says softly, as though he, too, is thinking similar thoughts. His voice is gentle, a plea; it’s so unlike him. “Untie these bindings and come to me of your own free will.”
“You said you wouldn’t ask me that again,” I remind him.
“I was wrong,” he says. “Come with me, Lazarus. Let me know what it is like to hold you instead of fighting you.”
To hold me? What exactly does he have in mind once he captures me?
Doesn’t matter, Lazarus, that fate is not for you.
I lean in close to his ear. “No.”
A slow, malevolent smile spreads across Death’s face, and even blindfolded, I find him chilling.
“Then you better run, kismet.”
I do run.
I run as fast as my legs will carry me, clutching two knives in my fists, two more blades crammed into the sheath at my side.
I don’t know what use they’ll be. I have lost the will to hurt the horseman.
You could simply go with him. The thought nearly stops me in my tracks.
I’ve been so used to opposing him, I’ve never actually thought through this option. If I was with Thanatos—well, there are many ways I could prevent him from moving from city to city.
Now I do come to a halt, my chest heaving, my breath leaving me in ragged gasps.
I could go with him.
But then I couldn’t forewarn towns. I’d have to figure out a new strategy. All the while, Death’s dark, penetrating eyes would keep flashing that fight-me-then-fuck-me look. How long would I be able to resist him? A week? Two? I’m probably being generous here. Already his beauty is distracting, but to be alone with him at length? When he’s made it clear he wants to at the very least hold me? I would give in. It probably wouldn’t even take that long. Not when I know he’s already given in to this terrible pull between us.
I begin to move again.
No, fleeing him is still my best option.
I barely make it a block more when the earth begins to tremble. I stop once more, looking up at the buildings towering around me. There’s a parking lot that’s been converted into horse stalls next to a high rise apartment building with broken windows and clothing lines crisscrossing the street. Across the way is another multi-storied structure that’s decorated with brightly colored street art.
It’s all somehow both bleak and strangely lively.
And I’m pretty sure it’s all about to literally come crashing down on me. My fear ratchets up at the thought of being buried alive.
I needn’t have worried.
The buildings don’t come down. It’s much, much worse.
For all around me the dead rise.
Chapter 20
San Antonio, Texas
January, Year 27 of the Horsemen
The corpses that lay strewn on the street are picking themselves up as though they were never dead to begin with. There are four, five, six of them. I spin and count several more. More still are exiting the buildings around me.