Famine by Laura Thalassa
Chapter 56
Thanatos stares at me for several seconds, an odd, surprised look on his face. I’m still holding Famine’s blade, even though it’s embedded itself into the horseman’s abdomen.
“Ana!”
I ignore Famine’s alarmed voice, focusing all my attention on the horseman in front of me.
Death’s hands go to the wound just as I withdraw the blade.
He hisses in sharply and gazes down at the wound. There’s not much to see, other than a growing wet stain on the black shirt he wears.
“Ana,” Famine says again, only this time he grabs me by the arm and drags me away. “What have you done?”
My gaze is still locked on Death.
I should feel some remorse. It’s odd that I don’t. Then again, my cheeks are wet and maybe it’s the rain but maybe it’s my eyes. I don’t know. I don’t know. It’s been a weird, awful day.
“If he thinks we should all die, then it’s only fair he knows what it feels like,” I say, staring at the final horseman as though in a trance.
Death makes a choked sound, his hands moving to the wound, and I smile.
I fucking smile.
It took an apocalypse, mass murder, and a few near death experiences, but I think I finally lost it.
Using Famine’s dagger, I point at the wound. Blood is slipping down Thanatos’s fingers. “That’s for taking my parents. And everyone else, you fucker.”
Famine drags me back with his good arm, and I can feel him trembling. He grabs the blade from my hand, wipes it on his trousers, then sheathes it at his side once more.
Beyond the Reaper, Thanatos sways, then drops to his knees. He’s making pained noises, and even from here I can see his limbs shaking, undoubtedly from the pain.
“You’ve never been on this side of death, have you?” I call out to him as the Reaper hauls me onto his horse the best he can. I can still remember with perfect clarity the awful sensation of the blades that entered and exited my own body. “Feels like shit, doesn’t it?”
“Ana, stop,” Famine says.
Thanatos focuses his gaze on me. I expect him to look angry, but those ancient eyes are agonized. Reaching out, Death angles his palm at me.
“Brother,” Famine says sharply, “stay your hand. We have a deal.”
“Her … stabbing me … wasn’t … part … of it,” he rasps out.
The Reaper’s hand settles on my thigh.
He stares down at his brother. “And like you said, this place is not fair. Welcome to the land of the living.”
Famine clicks his tongue and, turning his horse around, the two of us take off.
