Page 22 of The Death God
“To remind you. You picked me because you think you like me better than Prophecy, but you don’t. You hate what I am.”
Gregory grabbed his shoulders and pushed him onto the bench. “You’re eating. We’re going. And you’re gonna fucking behave.”
“Or you’ll do what?”
Gregory flashed fangs, but there was nothing but a dead look in Thanatos’ eyes. Not dead as in he’d seen Gregory’s death—though he had—but dead, as in there was nothing Gregory could do that hadn’t already been done to him.
It chilled him to the bone. In a snap decision, he leaned forward and slanted his lips over Thanatos’. The surprised sound was reward enough, and he pulled away and headed for the refrigerator. “You eat scrambled eggs, right?”
He remembered Rufus making everyone scrambled eggs before Thanatos had made the kitchen into his domain, and he’d eaten it then.
“Yeah.”
Gregory cracked eggs in a pan and got started. He made a good heap and put some bread and cheese on the table as well.
“Eat.” He sat on the chair and glared at Thanatos until he took the first bite of the eggs, then he took some for himself. “So tuxedos. Is there anything else you need from town?”
Thanatos looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “No, I don’t need anything.”
Other than something to be able to search for recipes on, Thanatos hadn’t asked for anything in the two months he’d been here. Gregory had bought clothes and toiletries for everyone, and the others had asked for things. Nothing big, but they’d asked if he could buy one thing or another, but not Thanatos. He hadn’t made one single fucking request, and it grated on Gregory’s nerves. He should want something. He didn’t care if that something was gummy bears or another brand of toothpaste, another type of pants or fucking socks in a different color. Something. Everyone wanted something.
* * * *
Thanatos clutched at whatever he could get a hold of when Gregory drove. They’d gotten tuxedos. The woman who’d worked in the store had been polite and helpful. She hadn’t looked at him funny when he’d said he didn’t know what size he was. She’d been too focused on flirting with Gregory, so that might explain why.
“I know how to drive.” Gregory sounded annoyed.
“I don’t know how to ride.”
For a second, there was complete silence, then Gregory burst out laughing. “I’m willing to let you practice on me.”
Thanatos made a sound of disgust.
“Oh, come on. You can’t say shit like that and not—”
Thanatos turned to him and checked his death. Again. It was twice in one day, and nothing had changed. He didn’t look all the way through the scene before he blinked it away and met Gregory’s gaze.
“You gonna keep checking?” His face was blank.
“Maybe.”
“To annoy me.”
Thanatos considered him. “It doesn’t annoy you; it scares you.”
“How would you know?” He focused on the road, which was good, but he had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
“Many are afraid of dying. They think they want to know how it’ll happen, but then when they find out, they get more scared. Most of them try to conceal it with anger. Or maybe it’s because most men are emotionally stunted, and anger is the only outlet they have.” Thanatos had dwelled on it many times. This incapability of recognizing their feelings, of owning up to their fears. They were scared but reacted by beating the crap out of him, claiming he’d angered them. They came to him. They wanted to know. They paid large amounts of money to find out.
“And it was men coming to see you?” Gregory still looked angry, but it was mixed with curiosity.
“I’d say about ninety percent were men. Whether it’s because it’s the people the warden allowed to book sessions or because women in general don’t have any grandiose illusions of being able to control fate, I don’t know. Or maybe women are less inclined to buy whores in underground medical facilities. It’s a possibility.”
Gregory flashed his fangs. He’d done it a lot today. “Are you in a bad mood?”
When he scowled, Thanatos chuckled. It was rusty, but it felt good.
“Have you ever tried to change your fate?”
