Behind me, I can sense the Reaper practically bursting with giddiness.
He really is a deviant.
Famine’s grip on my upper arm tightens. “Isn’t this a familiar situation?” he says to Death. “Only last time our roles were reversed.”
Ah, fuck.
Whatever’s going on, this isn’t just end-of-the-world stuff, this is revenge stuff. And I’m caught in the middle of it.
Thanatos prowls forward. “I didn’t know you had a death wish, brother.”
In a more menacing tone Famine says, “Come any closer and I will slit her throat.”
Much to my shock, Death stills.
Why is he not coming any closer? He knows I cannot truly die.
The Reaper leans his mouth against my ear. “Look at that, tootsie,” he says. “My brother seems to have a heart, after all.”
To Death, he says, “Painful, isn’t it? Finally you, all-ending Death, know what it’s like to be vulnerable.” His voice is openly gloating.
Thanatos doesn’t look vulnerable. Just full of wrath.
“You don’t think I’m aware that our brothers are a mere mile from here?” Thanatos says, his voice chillingly calm. “That the three of you have been trotting about the globe? Do you think I’m unaware of your plans? Let Lazarus go, and I’ll spare you all—for now.”
Famine sighs, and for one second I think he’s making a show of this just so he can drag the blade across my neck and make the whole thing overly dramatic. But then he removes the blade altogether and shoves me forward.
I stumble just as Thanatos strides forward and catches me. The horseman brushes the hair back from my face.
“Are you okay?” he says softly, ignoring his brother altogether. I look up at his depthless eyes, eyes that are peering at me with concern, as though he hasn’t deliberately and violently ended my life several times.
I nod, more rattled than I thought I was. Now that I’m not about to immediately die, I relax in his arms. Death, too, seems to relax, and I have so many conflicting feelings about that.
His gaze moves to Famine, and I can see dark promise in his expression.
“You are going to regret this,” Thanatos says, his voice feather light but filled with menace.
“Am I now?” the Reaper says, raising his eyebrows. He still appears to be enjoying himself.
Thanatos releases me, moving forward to confront his brother.
“Last I saw of you, coward, you were fleeing from me,” Death says, beginning to circle the Reaper. “Tell me, how is Ana?”
Ana?
My eyes widen when I connect the dots. This Ana must be the woman Famine loves—the one he wants to give up humanity for.
The Reaper begins to move as well, the two men circling one another.
“When was the last time you talked to her?” Thanatos presses.
Now Famine isn’t gloating. He isn’t smiling either.
His upper lip curls. “If you dare—”
“If I dare?” Death says imperiously, his eyes blazing. “You are the one who has dared much. You were supposed to help me. Instead you dragged our brothers out of their dull, mortal lives and forced their aging bodies to go up against me.
“Aw,” Famine pretends to pout, “you still think the world is fair?”
Death smiles. The sight of it gives me chills. “No, I finally see it for what it is. It’s you who seem to still cling to this idea of fairness, or have you forgotten my reach, brother? Your dear Ana is never safe.”
At those words, the Reaper lunges, swinging his scythe faster than my eyes can follow.
Who decided fighting inside this cramped space was a good idea?
Oh, right, that psycho Famine, who apparently makes many, many awful decisions.
Death steps back, dodging the blade with an ease he should not be feeling.
Quick as lightning, Thanatos lunges forward, grabbing the hilt of the Reaper’s sheathed sword. He withdraws the blade, and then the two of them are swinging their weapons.
The scythe and the sword lock, the metal grinding together.
I watch them carefully as I edge my way around them and towards the door.
“Tying your girl up was a nice touch, Thanatos,” Famine says, leaning his weight into his scythe. “But I hope you don’t think you’re special. That’s the one kink we’ve all done.” Famine smiles slyly at his brother as I skirt around them, moving slow enough to not draw attention to myself. “And I must say, hypocrisy looks great on you.”
With a zing, their blades slide apart.
“I didn’t realize you wanted to get hurt again,” Thanatos says.