“How did you know that skeleton was a woman?” I ask as we move down the hall.
“Hmm?” Death says distractedly.
“The skeleton outside—the one I said was a man. You corrected me on its gender. How did you know it was once a woman?”
He glances down at me. “Kismet, there are many things that I know.”
And I have the uncomfortable urge to learn them all.
“That doesn’t answer the question,” I say.
Thanatos gives me one of his long, drawn-out stares. I’m getting used to them. I mean, I’m never going to be one hundred percent comfortable with the way the horseman takes his time gazing at me, but this is the one part of our relationship that has been consistent—him looking at me for far longer than is socially normal.
“You see bones and nothing more,” he finally says. “I see the afterimage of the soul who wore them.”
Death steers us into one of the rooms, though my focus is still on him.
“So you can see out of the eyes of the dying—and the dead—and you can see the person whose corpse you control?” I say.
These abilities … they’re an intimate, discomfiting aspect of his power.
“You make them sound like two separate things,” Death says, “but it’s all interwoven.”
“If what you say is true, then why do you not understand humans better?” I ask.
I mean, the first time he captured me, he was utterly perplexed at the thought of me needing food and water and a bed.
Thanatos gives me a perplexed look. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that. I guess seeing something is not the same as understanding it or living it.”
I glance away, just for a moment, but my attention snags on our surroundings. While I’ve been fully invested in this conversation, Death has led me to … it seems wrong to call this a bedroom. It’s far too grand. Almost uncomfortably so. The chandelier above us is cut from crystal, and the floor beneath us is covered with a massive rug that looks imported from some far off place. Several gilded vases rest in alcoves, the windows are framed by heavy drapery and the bed has a matching comforter. The whole room is done up in wine-reds and golds and it’s just as impressive as it is impersonal.
I really have never been in a house this luxurious.
“This is your bedroom,” Death says. He peers around at it before his gaze returns to mine.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Does it matter?”
Yes, his eyes seem to say.
It’s shocking to think this powerful, almost omnipotent being might actually feel vulnerable around me.
“I’ve never slept in a room like this,” I say.
He frowns, and I feel the need to clarify.
“This is nicer than any house I’ve ever stayed in.”
I swear I see him relax just a touch.
I leave his side then, crossing the room. The man at my back is making me jumpy, but so is the fine bedroom with its embellishments. I can feel dirt and grime on my skin, and if this bedroom was sentient, I bet it would wrinkle its nose at me in distaste.
I sneak a peek into the closet, curious what I’ll find in there. Women’s clothing fills the space, all of it either neatly hung up or folded on the shelves. The sizes look all over the place, but there are so many outfits it seems to drown out the fact that the sizing is inconsistent.
“That’s yours,” Death says softly.
Wait. What?
I turn around, my eyes wide. “What do you mean, this is mine?”
Thanatos tilts his head down, his eyes looking up at me in a way that looks both shy and scheming. “They are items I thought you might like.”
Clothes he thought … ?
“You mean, they’re not the former owner’s things?”
Thanatos gives his head a soft shake.
If they’re not the owner’s things … then he must have gathered these items from elsewhere and brought them here.
My brows pull together as I study the horseman. Death wears a guarded look; he does not, however, appear embarrassed or possessive, or anything else to indicate that it is in fact weird to fill a closet full of women’s clothing in preparation for the captive you intend to kidnap.
I take in a deep breath as, all at once, it hits me.
He’s trying to care for me, like some sort of good partner. I mocked his first attempt, so now he’s found the biggest house with the nicest things to make up for it.
Don’t you dare be moved by this, Lazarus. Don’t do it.
In spite of my brain’s very sage advice, I thaw—just a little.