The Four Horsemen 4 - Death (15 page)

They groaned when Death slid from him. He accepted Death’s hand and let him pull him off the couch. He led the way into his private bathroom where they cleaned up before heading back out to dress.
When they were properly attired again, they sat on the couch, and Pierre took a deep breath.
“What are you doing here? I thought we weren’t going to be able to see each other anymore since you’re a Horseman and all that.”
Death took his hand and waited until he looked at him. “Do you love me, Pierre?”
Pierre licked his lips and nodded. “Yes. I did, but I couldn’t stay there with you. I don’t want to be a kept man. I think I’d probably end being addicted again because I couldn’t handle the boredom.”
“I know that. I understand why you left, though I’ll admit I wasn’t happy at first. It felt like neither you nor Oliver wanted to be with me.” Grinning, Death shook his head. “I do believe my pride was injured.”
“Oliver didn’t go with you when you asked because he cared so much about you. He didn’t want you to be shunned by society for taking up with a whore. It wasn’t because he didn’t love you or anything like that.” Pierre had to tell Death what Oliver had told him in his dream. He wanted to make sure he delivered the message first.
“I think I always knew that, but still my pride was hurt. It was easier to believe Oliver didn’t love me, than to accept the responsibility of how much I meant to him.” Death shook his head again. “Anyway, because I’ve finally come to terms with my own guilt over Oliver’s death, I’ve been freed from being a Horseman.”
“Really?” Pierre couldn’t help the excitement welling up inside him.
Death smiled and brought Pierre’s hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. “Yes. I’m as mortal as you are now. I came here tonight to find out if you’d be interested in going out on a date with me.”
“A date?” Pierre thought about what they’d just done. “Aren’t we past the dating stage by now?”
“No. We became lovers when I was a Horseman. Now we’re going to get to know each other since I’m mortal. There’s nothing to keep us apart anymore, Pierre. I love you and want to spend the rest of my mortal life with you.”
Pierre studied Death’s beautiful dark blue eyes and smiled. “All right. We’ll start over then.”
“Perfect.”
Death stood and bowed slightly. “I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Gatian Almasia, and I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Mr. Pierre Fortescue.”

Lam stood in the wasteland, waiting for the newest Horseman to arrive. He didn’t pace or fidget since angels didn’t do those things. No, he simply crouched, staring out over the black expanse, and wondering how Gatian and Pierre were doing.

He admitted to himself, there were a few occasions when he didn’t think Gatian would ever find someone to love. If ever there was a man caught up in the past, it was Gatian, and it had been difficult to find the right mortal for him. Yet the moment Lam saw Pierre, the angel knew he was perfect for Gatian.

“Turns out you were right.”
He straightened and whirled, glaring at Day who stood behind him.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he reminded his lover.
Day shrugged. “I’m not supposed to do a lot of things I do. So far no one’s come to stop

me.”
“One day they will.”
And the thought of that day terrified Lam, because there wouldn’t be anything he could

Day stepped closer to him and cradled Lam’s face in his hands. “Don’t worry about me, love. If or when it happens, I’ll deal with it like I always do.”
A crack of lightning lit the sky, and Lam winced. Day looked over Lam’s shoulder and grimaced.
“It’s time for you to get back to work, love. Go help the poor confused bastard. Don’t you ever get tired of helping them out? Of dealing with their anger and their questions?”
“It’s my job, Day. I don’t have a choice, and I’m one of the more patient angels. At least I’ll take the time to answer them.”
Day snorted. “Most of your fellow angels have a high opinion of themselves. How are Gatian and Pierre doing?”
Lam leant forwards, placing a quick kiss on Day’s lips. “Gatian and Pierre are in love and happy together. I can’t help being happy for them.”
Day grimaced, and there was a hint of sadness in Lam’s lover’s eyes, but he gave Lam a little hug before pushing him away. “Go do your job, Lam.”
As Lam walked away, Day’s voice drifted to him on a strange little breeze.
“Someday we’ll be happy and together without anyone judging us.”

Shadows blended, graduating from light grey to the darkest black. They neither stayed still nor moved in any direction. The harder Andor strained to make out any tiny detail, the more the lights pulsed with a weird life of their own.

A cough drew his attention to a larger shadow standing where he knew the door to his study was.
“Yes?”
“He’s arrived, sir.”
They had sent Tony to inform him. Andor recognised the hesitation in the young man’s voice like Tony weighed every word before he spoke.
“Good. Where is he now?”
Andor didn’t move from where he sat, not wanting to appear weak in front of any of his herd.
“In his room, sir. Malachi escorted him there before sending me to tell you.”
A heady surge of relief swept through Andor. It had almost killed him when Sven left the compound, yet he stayed away from the young human. He hoped Sven would have returned on his own, but with Andor’s health and very existence in jeopardy, he couldn’t wait any longer. Hopefully, he’d be able to convince Sven to help him instead of forcing him to give Andor what he needed. Also, with Sven back home, Andor wouldn’t have to worry about something happening to the human meant to be everything to Andor.
“His door isn’t locked, is it?”
“No, sir. Malachi has someone watching it, but there’s nothing to keep him here.”
Tony was right. There wasn’t anything to keep Sven at the compound, yet Andor hoped the mortal would be angry enough at being forced to return, he’d stick around, if only to chew Andor out.
“Thank you, Tony, and relay my appreciation to Malachi. Tell him he may have his choice from the herd as an award.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Unhappiness filled Tony’s voice and Andor knew the young guard hoped Malachi would choose him instead of one of the humans making up Andor’s herd.
“Good night.” He waved, dismissing the messenger and the dark block he assumed was Tony disappeared through the black square behind it.
Andor rubbed his eyes. Damn vision was fucked and not having fed for a week didn’t help matters. Being an older vampire, Andor didn’t have to feed as often as the younger ones, but with the poison still ravaging his body, he should have been feeding every other day to try and combat it.
Standing, he remained still until he oriented himself with the large desk at one end of his study. No one had been in his suite of rooms since he awoke and there wasn’t any way they could get in while he slept. It was one of the many precautions Malachi instituted when he’d come to work for Andor.
He made it across the room without mishap, hating the shuffling steps he had to take to ensure he didn’t run into a coffee table or a piece of furniture he’d forgotten was there. There was truth in the cliché,
‘you never know what you have until it’s gone’
. He never knew how much he relied on his eyes until they had been taken from him, or at least, his eyesight had been stolen from him.
Andor had been a god in the vampire society he travelled amongst, but now he was pathetic and helpless. Weak when being weak could get him killed. There were those waiting in the wings for his downfall. The loss of his eyesight was only the beginning of his decline in power, if he couldn’t do something to stop the deterioration or assert his power in a different way.
He found the top of the chair at the desk and slowly eased down into the seat. Pulling himself closer to the desk, he fumbled with the drawers until his hand found the right one and he tugged it open. Andor reached in and grabbed the box he’d tucked at the back of the drawer. He rested it on his lap while he trailed his fingers over the engraved words along its top.
“Elessa,” he murmured. “I could love him as much, if not more, than I loved you, but he fears me and what I offer.”
He closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the cushion of the chair. His head pounded from forcing his eyes to focus on something, to draw details and colours into his brain. He longed for the way things used to be, but knew in his soul, they would never be the same. His grip tightened on the wooden box in his hands.
Centuries passed like the trickling of water through a riverbed. Minutes and seconds built on each other until years had gone by and he’d lost anything that made him human. His only connection to what he once was hated him and had run away instead of taking his rightful place at the head of Andor’s herd.
Elessa would tell him it was wrong to think of the humans he fed off as cattle, but what else were they? He housed and fed them. In return, they gave him their blood. It was just like any rancher or shepherd. Was that the reason why Sven ran away? Or was there more to Sven’s leaving than Andor treating humans like livestock?
Opening the box, he pulled out a small frame. He ran his fingers over the bumps and swirls left by the oil paint. The pain in his heart made him gasp. Gods, it hurt to know he’d never be able to look on this portrait and remember her face. Without this image, he feared he would forget what Elessa looked like. Yet even now, Sven’s face often became superimposed over Elessa’s in his mind.
It had only been since Sven turned eighteen that Andor had thought about feeding from him. Most humans experienced pleasure from the connection and Andor wasn’t ashamed of the fact that he took advantage of that to feed and fuck whoever he drank from. Men or women, it didn’t matter as long as Andor got their blood.
“What am I to do, Elessa? He is one of yours and I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.” He could almost hear her laughing at him. “Yes, my heart is involved this time. The first since I held you dying in my arms. If you were alive, you would enjoy this. I could love him, yet he is disgusted by me.”
No answer came from the painting and he put it away before returning the box to the desk drawer. Inhaling deeply, he straightened his shoulders and climbed to his feet. It was time to face the lion in his den. He made it to the door without incident and found Malachi waiting outside in the hall.
“The hallway is clear. I had all the furniture removed, so you will only need to worry about running into the walls, but the carpet covers the middle of the floor until about two inches away from the wall. When you feel the edge under your foot, you know the wall is close.”
“Tony said Sven is in his usual room.”
“Yes, sir. Summon me if you need me.” Malachi’s voice faded, though Andor knew the man stood in the darkness behind him, watching and keeping an eye out for him like any loyal dog would.
Sven’s room was four doors down from Andor’s on the opposite side of the hallway. Andor tried to move confidently, trailing his hand over the wall, across the doors, counting them, even though it was only Malachi who watched him. Agonising minutes later, Andor stood outside Sven’s door. He knocked and waited. When there wasn’t any answer, he turned the knob and stepped in.
Anger hung in the room. Andor understood. No one appreciated being dragged back home like a wayward child. Malachi wouldn’t have told Sven anything. Shifting through the layers of emotions piling in the air around him, Andor discovered a tiny hint of relief hidden deep under the anger. Was Sven happy Andor had sent someone after him? Had he wanted that all along?
Andor shook his head, frustrated by his doubts. It had been so long since he was human, he’d lost any ability to discern the truth out of emotions. He doubted he’d ever had that ability. As a warrior, emotions could get one killed, and as a vampire, through the centuries, one learned emotions meant nothing when one lived forever.
Rustling caught his attention and he imagined Sven either sat on the bed or stood by the window. The only good thing was both were in the same direction.
“Thank you for returning with Malachi.”
Sven snorted, but didn’t speak.
“Something has arisen and your presence was needed.”
Desired.
Andor didn’t need his eyesight to tell that Sven stared at him in disbelief. It was how he’d react to that statement if someone said that to him.
“I hope you’ve found your room the way you left it. The only one allowed in here after you left was Malachi. I didn’t want it to be dirty when you came back.”
He snapped his mouth closed. Babbling like an idiot wasn’t a becoming trait for a vampire. No words seemed forthcoming from Sven, so Andor decided retreat was best. Plus the sun was about to rise and exhaustion pulled at his senses.
“Welcome home, Sven. If you wish for anything, ask Malachi.”
After shutting the door behind him, he started down the hall towards his suite. Malachi’s shadow appeared in his range of vision.
“Bring Doctor Ramshall to the compound, Malachi. Maybe he can help us figure out what’s wrong.”
“Yes, sir.”
Confident Malachi would do as he commanded, Andor headed for bed, hoping Sven’s intoxicating scent would dissipate soon. No sense in driving himself crazy over something he couldn’t have.

There is beauty in every kind of love, so why not live a life without boundaries? Experiencing everything the world offers fascinates TA and writing about the things that make each of us unique is how she shares those insights. TA lives in the Midwest with a wonderful partner of fifteen years. When not writing, she’s watching movies, reading and living life to the fullest.

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The Four Horsemen: Pestilence
The Four Horsemen: War The Four Horsemen: Famine

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