The Four Horsemen 4 - Death (2 page)

He bit his lip to keep from crying out. They might kill him, but he wasn’t going to give them any satisfaction by yelling or begging. Gatian might die, yet he would do it on his own terms. Rolling onto his back, he grasped his sword and thrust with all his strength, driving the blade deep into the gut of one of the men standing over him. Blood gushed over his arm. He closed his eyes while the warm liquid cascaded down.
Finally, he couldn’t fight anymore. Gatian accepted his death when he could feel his strength drain from him. He would die in the dirty alley at the hands of ruffians. He looked up to meet the gaze of the head attacker.
“Why?”
The gap-toothed grin the bastard flashed him chilled Gatian’s already cold soul. “Did you really think you’d get away with killing some nob? His family don’t like the idea of his being dead.”
Ah. St Lucian’s family had found a way to exact revenge. Gatian laughed wetly. He should have anticipated this, since St Lucian didn’t have any problem raping a weaker woman, even though she was placed high in society. The man’s family wouldn’t wince at the idea of killing another man.
Well, at least Emilia wouldn’t have to worry about being shunned anymore, Gatian thought as blackness slowly overcame his vision. She would be a sympathetic figure to society for the most part, and her wealth would help smooth any bumps in the road.
His last thought was of Oliver, and he wished he would be seeing his dead lover soon, but Gatian knew he would be heading to Hell, not Heaven. Oliver had been innocent, and his only sin was caring for Gatian, not knowing what an utter bastard Gatian was. “Get up. We don’t have time for you to lay about.”
The voice tore through Gatian’s mind, and he jerked straight up, looking around for his opponents. Frowning, he realised he wasn’t in the alleyway anymore. The landscape surrounding him was barren like nothing Gatian had seen. He pushed to his feet and turned slowly in a circle.
“Are you done?”
Finishing his circle, he glared at the slender, silver-haired man standing there, his arms folded like he impatiently waited for Gatian to complete his circuit. Staring into the man’s blue eyes, Gatian barely swallowed his gasp as he noticed the colour filled the entire eye, with no pupil or iris.
“Who are you?” He often found attacking a person got him answers when they were more likely not to reply.
The man snorted. “You may call me Lam. You have been chosen, and I have to show you what your new job is.”
“Chosen? Where am I? I have never seen a place like this.” He motioned in a vague circle. “How did I get here?”
“You died in a back alley in Paris. Instead of being sent to wherever your judgement called for you to go, you were sent to me. I’m pretty sure you won’t like what you’re about to do, but it’s none of my business. I’m only here to teach you before you are sent out on your own.”
Lam whistled, and Gatian jumped when a pale grey stallion appeared out of thin air. The stallion snorted at him like it was saying hello. Gatian reached out to touch the horse’s nose. Jerking away from him, the horse shook its head. Obviously it wasn’t interested in him petting it.
“This is your horse.” Lam nodded in the grey’s direction. “Now that you’re Death, the Pale Rider, you need a mount.”
“Death? Pale Rider?” Gatian repeated, confusion pounding in his head.
Gatian remembered what else had happened before he’d woken up in this strange place. He stretched, searching for pain or broken bones. Yet nothing hurt, and there were no wounds or blood anywhere.
“Is there a reason why I have no wounds or torn clothes?” Gatian grasped Lam’s arms and shook the man. “Who are you, and why am I not dead?”
Lam didn’t respond, and didn’t try to break Gatian’s hold. He simply studied Gatian with a sardonic twist to his lips. Gatian found he hated Lam, if only for his calm reaction to Gatian’s yelling.
When his anger settled back into coldness, he let Lam go and stepped back. He’d never got anything by losing his temper. He tampered all his questions and doubts down deep and rested his hands on his hips.
“Where are we going? And tell me again what a Pale Rider is?”
“Nice try, my friend. I never told you once what a Pale Rider is, except that you’re the new one. You are dead, in the most fundamental way possible. You can never go back to your old life, and while all those you know will die, you will continue to live forever.” Lam paused and tilted his head. “Or until you forgive yourself of all that guilt you’ve been carrying around.”
“Guilt? What guilt?”
Lam grinned and slapped Gatian on the shoulder. “You can deny it all you want, but I can see it in the set of your shoulders and the chill in your eyes. You did something you regret, and it’s been eating at you since it happened. Well, whatever it was, it’s brought you to this. As the leader of the Four Horsemen, you will be in charge of keeping the world in balance.”
Gatian shrugged. “I have no idea what you are talking about. Who are the Four Horsemen?”
“Climb on your horse and come with me. I have a lot to teach you and a short window of time to do it in.” Lam motioned to the grey stallion.
Should he go? Was this some sort of trick Gatian’s brain played on him? Could he be alive but caught in his head somehow? Gatian swung astride the stallion and smiled at Lam.
“Lead the way, Lam. I am sure you will answer all my questions in due time.”
Lam narrowed his eyes at Gatian like he understood Gatian wasn’t satisfied. Gatian kept his expression bland, not willing to give anything away. With a nod of Lam’s head, they disappeared.

The room swirled with colours, bright and dark. Reds and blacks mingled with purples and greens. Pierre giggled as he lay on the floor of the hotel room, his eyes barely focusing on the actual furniture or the ceiling. The heroin raged through his veins, dragging his brain down into a drugged fog. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been in the room.

Had it been an hour, a day, or several days? Time rushed by at the speed of light, and yet the seconds crawled. He’d injected the drug into his arms and legs every time the thrill began to wear off. Pierre didn’t want to think about what had brought him to Paris and why he was alone in the hotel instead of wandering the streets. Being who he was made it easy to have the drugs delivered, and the people who brought it to him didn’t care how much he had as long as he paid them.

Was he hungry or had some random thought skated across his mind that he should be hungry? How long had it been since he’d eaten anything? He guessed it depended on how long it had been since he’d arrived at the hotel. Pierre had eaten in the hotel restaurant before returning to the room and discovering his wonderful dream come true had disappeared into reality.

It was the moment he’d dropped the note when he’d called for the drugs to be delivered. No one had questioned him, and certainly no one stopped him. Not when there was a cash cow living in the penthouse suite, spending thousands of dollars a day and asking nothing but for them to allow the dirty, lank-haired man to go up there once in a while.

A noise caught Pierre’s attention, and he rolled his head over to one side. He found himself staring at a pair of shoes.
Italian leather,
he thought. They were beautifully made, and Pierre bit back the envy swelling inside him. Silly really, when he could have bought a hundred pairs just like them.

He trailed his gaze up from the shoes over the tailored black slacks and black linen shirt. His mouth fell open when he looked into the eternally black eyes of the most handsome man he’d ever seen. Everything about the man spoke of darkness, and falling into a pit without hope of climbing back out.

Turning his head again, Pierre blinked at the sight of the other man standing in the embrace of the dark man. Where the first man was darkness and sadness, the second man was lightness and happiness. His silver hair gleamed in whatever light shone through the windows. The blond’s eyes were as blue as the daytime sky.

“He doesn’t look like someone Gatian would go for,” the dark one commented, nudging Pierre with the toe of his expensive shoe.
The light one snorted. “I’m not sure what type Gatian would have gone for, but over the centuries, he hasn’t shown any interest in any of the men he came across. There must be something about this particular one that makes him special.”
“I guess. Well, what do we need to do to ensure he comes to find this creature?”
Pierre would have blushed if he had the energy, and the drugs didn’t cloud his thought process. As it was, he could make out the disgust in the dark one’s voice, but he had no shame left. He reached out towards the blond.
“Who are you?” He barely managed to ask the question.
“Don’t touch him. I bet he hasn’t bathed in a week.” Italian Loafer Dude curled his upper lip in disdain.
“Silence, Day. We aren’t here to judge him. That will come when his life is over.” The other one crouched down. “You may call me Lam.”
Day grunted. “Looks like his death will be sooner than anyone anticipated.”
“Hush, Day. Keep your opinions to yourself. It’s none of our business why this one was chosen for him. We have to make sure he’ll stay alive long enough for Gatian to come and get him.”
Lam brushed his hand over Pierre’s forehead. Pierre whimpered as he started to shake. He didn’t know how long it’d been since his last hit, but it felt like the high was wearing off. His eyes rolled in their sockets, and he wanted to plead with Lam to get him some more.
“What do we do with him now? He’s going to go into withdrawals, and once that happens, it won’t be pretty.” Day tapped his foot on the floor next to Pierre’s head.
“My orders are to make sure Gatian gets here in the next day or two. So Pierre needs to stay alive until then, at least, but he can’t do that if he’s not high.” Lam shook his head. “You’ll have to call his dealer and get more heroin delivered.”
“You’re an angel,” Pierre murmured before he began coughing. His insides twisted, and his stomach tried to crawl out of his throat. He curled into a foetal position, wrapping his arms around his legs and crying out as pain ripped through every inch of his body.
“How did you know?” Lam joked with a smile.
“I’m not the boy’s dealer, Lam. I refuse to buy drugs for him, or call someone to come and bring it to him.” Day sounded angry.
Pierre didn’t care who brought what. He simply needed heroin, or something to dull the pain.
“He needs to have the heroin, and you need to make sure he gets it,” Lam ordered. “You know this, Day. If you weren’t going to help me, why did you agree to come with me?”
“Because I rarely get time with you. To have more time, I would agree to visit the Master himself.”
Pierre rolled over onto his back when his entire body seized. His legs and arms drummed the floor while his head banged against the carpet as well. Foam formed around his lips, and he couldn’t breathe anymore. He was dying and it hurt far worse than he’d ever imagined.
“Day, just get the stupid stuff. He can’t die right now.”
Lam didn’t touch Pierre, but for some reason just Lam’s presence seemed to ease some part of Pierre’s soul. Pierre lost track of time while his fit continued. All his brain could focus on was the pain and the need clawing at his veins. God, he wanted to slice open his skin and let the fire burning in his flesh out. He hated withdrawal symptoms, having discovered how bad they were the year before when he went through rehab the first time.
“Fine.”
Pierre smelt sulphur for a faint second, and Lam sighed.
“I do wonder why I stay with him at times. He’s very stubborn.”
“Because you love him,” Pierre managed to say through chattering teeth. He’d reacted to the emotion in Lam’s voice.
“True, but that leaves us both in a very precarious situation.” Lam sounded unhappy.
“Sorry,” Pierre whispered.
He moaned when Lam’s cool hand landed on his cheek. Pierre forced his eyes open and stared up into Lam’s blue eyes. While there was sadness in the bright fields of colour, Pierre saw peace in them as well. He wanted to reach up to touch Lam’s pale skin. Unfortunately, he had no strength to lift his arms.
Pierre lay on his back, panting while the pain eased for a moment. A sudden thought hit him, and he frowned.
“How did you get in here? Did I somehow leave the door open? But I don’t remember leaving the room.”
“Don’t worry about how we got here. Just concentrate on living.” Lam brushed aside his questions.
“But I would rather die than live,” Pierre admitted to the silver-haired man kneeling next to him. He’d never spoken those words aloud before.
Lam cupped his face and smiled gently at him. “Hang on, Pierre. I promise help is coming, and in a day or two, someone will arrive to take you away. You have to be strong even after he retrieves you. Gatian isn’t a bad man.”
A snort came from the balcony, and they both looked over to see Day standing there. The dark man tossed some things down next to Lam’s knee.
“Here you go. I never thought I’d become some human’s dealer. There’s enough in there to get him through a day or two, and a bag of tainted stuff. He’ll need to take that to bring Gatian here, per your orders.”
Pierre wrinkled his nose at the stronger scent of sulphur. “What smells like rotten eggs?”
Day heaved an annoyed sigh. “I’m getting very tired of that. Are you ready to go, Lam? I’m sure he can figure out how to shoot up. Hell, he’s probably been shooting up for years.”
“Did you make sure to get clean needles at least?” Lam shoved to his feet and nudged the heroin closer to Pierre.
“Seriously? You’re worried about him catching something from dirty needles?” Day shook his head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I got him clean needles as well.”
Pierre blinked as Lam kissed Day, and if he wasn’t trying to figure out how to stay alive long enough to prepare the heroin before plunging the needle into his arm, he’d get hard at the sight. So pretty, he thought.
“Let’s go. We’ll make sure Gatian gets here in a day or two. The timing has to be just right. Pierre must be on the edge of death, but shouldn’t have died yet.” Lam wrinkled his nose.
“He’ll take care of it, I’m sure.” Day stared at Pierre, his dark eyes burning with intense fire. “You never saw the two of us. Trust me, it would be a painful punishment if you talk about this.”
Pierre nodded, not really understanding what Day talked about. The warning wasn’t necessary, considering Pierre was pretty sure the whole incident was his imagination. Within a blink, Day and Lam were gone, and Pierre didn’t worry about the two men.
He scrabbled with the needles and bags, cooking up the heroin and filling the syringe with his drug of choice. Then the tiny burn of pain when the needle went into the vein on his left arm. The strangest sensation of the heroin slipping into his blood caught his attention. This was what he lived for now, and God, how much did he love this.
When the needle was empty, Pierre slumped on the floor and sighed. A wave of wellbeing swelled over him, and euphoria crashed down into his body. Every atom in Pierre’s body relaxed, and he smiled.
Perfect
rippled through his mind. It didn’t matter if the man he thought loved him had abandoned him.
Nothing mattered anymore while he surfed the tide of the dragon’s fire burning through his veins.