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“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I said, focusing on Lazarus. “The last time I stood in front of a sea of reapers, they weren’t too happy with me.”
“I told them you wanted to talk.”
I rolled my eyes. Lazarus didn’t get it, or maybe he did and I was just blind to his intentions. I knew he was walking me into the lion’s den, but what I didn’t know was whether he was on my side, or if he had been contracted to deliver me to my death?
“I’ve told you before, this just doesn’t feel right.”
“If you want to stop this...”
My glare shut him up. “Why are you so hot to have me address the ranks?”
The direct question caught Lazarus off guard and his mouth popped open and closed like a guppy out of water. “I believe the best way to win this battle is through talking it out and not further splintering the sides,” he said, once he regained his composure.
“Look, I think your heart’s in the right place,” I started, giving him the benefit of the doubt, “but it’s way too dangerous, especially if I’m on their ground.” My fingers dropped to the hilt of the knife, feeling for the reassuring vibrations I had gotten used to when it felt I was doing the right thing. It lay silent, dormant on my thigh, like it was only just a plain kitchen knife instead of a supernatural tool designated to help lead the way. “I think I have some control here, but in your realm? Not so much.”
“I’ve got your back,” Lazarus said.
Doubt clouded my mind and I sighed, unsure of what to do next.
“I know you’re having a tough time trusting me, but I’m on your side. I don’t want to see the death and destruction that Promethis is planning. It’s diabolical.”
I bit my lip and looked out the window. Unease settled in the air and I shifted my weight before speaking. “What do you want me to say?” I returned my attention to the reaper.
Lazarus offered a shrug.
“Well that’s helpful.” I turned away from him and crossed to the kitchen in search of some food. If I was walking into the depths of hell today, I didn’t want it to be on an empty stomach. As I stacked roast beef on bread, I glanced at Lazarus. “You want something to eat?”
His gaze dropped to the array of food on the counter and then back to me with a raised eyebrow. “You know this is just a glamour, right?” He waved to his form like a magician in a magic show.
I stopped in the middle of squeezing the mustard and stared at him with a laugh on my lips. “I just figured you took the form of a human, you might also have an appetite, too.” I shrugged, and finished making my sandwich. With a drink and an overflowing plate, I took a seat at the table and dug in, ignoring the imploring stare of my constant companion.
“Are you...”
I glared a warning and he dropped whatever line of questioning he started. When I finished and wiped my mouth with the napkin, I leaned back in the chair and gave a single nod. Lazarus hesitated and I cocked my head. “You don’t want to go now?”
“You’re just going to leave that mess for your mother?” he asked with a wave toward the counter.
Sometimes I forgot Lazarus was ancient, but he did have a point-one that my mother made to me whenever she was around. Clean up my mess. “Fine,” I said, adding an eye-roll to the equation as I stood and started the tedious job of cleaning the kitchen. When everything sparkled, I turned. “Better?”
He smiled and nodded.
I wiped my hands and sighed. “So how does this work?”
Lazarus stepped closer and clasped my wrist in his hand. Cold shot from my wrist up my arm like a creeping disease and Lazarus pulled. In a blink, the kitchen disappeared and the ledge I was on in my nightmare appeared before me along with the hostile gaze of thousands of reapers. My throat tightened in response and the chill enveloped my whole form, leaving me numb and frightened to the core of my soul.
“Go ahead,” Lazarus whispered from his perch next to me.
I glanced at the cloaked skeleton grasping my wrist and wished the glamour worked here because this being with a death grip on me scared me just as much as the crowd gathered before me. I wished for Isabel and closed my eyes to gather the strength to find my voice. “Is Promethis here?” The question barely registered but when I opened my eyes, I saw Lazarus shaking his head.
I could deal better with that than with the reaper gunning for me, riling up the crowd. I inhaled and surveyed the sea of black. “Hi.” I said and raised my hand in the universal greeting.
No one moved.
“I’m Nick.”
Still no reaction and I glanced at Lazarus for help. He just nodded for me to continue.
“Dylan’s son,” I added and that produced a chain reaction that spread through the ranks like an invisible wave. “My father has been kidnapped and I believe one of your fellow reapers is behind it. He’s also been handing out fake death orders and I know for a fact Fate is not too happy with the whole situation,” I said and shifted my weight, uncomfortable with the sudden silence that settled. The air became oppressive, constricting around my chest like a notched belt pulled too far. Instinctively, I stepped back and the knife on my hip began vibrating its warning.
“I told you he would come with some lame subterfuge,” Promethis bellowed from the far corner of the ledge. He stepped out of the shadows in his larger than life form, and turned his hateful stare in my direction.
I withered under it, fear lacing my throat like some vile poison I couldn’t swallow. I tried to speak, to refute his lies, but only a squeak of derision escaped my constricted chest. I took another step back and Lazarus’ grip tightened, holding me in place. My head snapped in his direction and I saw the hazy image of his glamour. His gaze was trained on something behind me and the crease between his eyebrows captured his angst.
I took a quick glance over my shoulder and my heart dropped to my feet. Terror encompassed me at the unending gorge less than a step behind me. The nightmare bloomed and I snapped my gaze back to the crowd and the clear malice radiating from them. This situation was a total loss and if we didn’t get the hell out of Dodge, I was sure I’d see where that never-ending pit went.
“Get me out of here Lazarus,” I whispered and hated the way my voice shook.
His grip tightened painfully on my wrist as the crowd of reapers stormed the ledge.