Page 20 of A Waltz with Lord Death
They entered the building, and the stench did indeed make Betha retch. All over his shoes. Wonderful…
His hounds’ tails thumped excitedly against his leg, their tongues flopping out over sharp, shadowy canines. Three rows of bodies lay on the ground in the large room, moaning and groaning with their infirmities. Several healthy individuals wore cloth over their faces in an attempt to protect them from the illness plaguing the sick. And one of them…
“What do we have here?” he murmured, his eyebrows drawing together.
He scrutinized a tall male with a red tint to his blond hair, his eyes a light brown, and half his face covered by a white cloth. An otherworldly light flickered in his soul just like Meira, yet…
The man’s lifespan ticked in the negatives.
“Our prospect’s lifespan is negative five hundred years.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes unfocused and her face a sickly shade of green. “That could only mean—”
“Stay close.”
When the other workers turned their backs to administer to patients, Death approached and revealed himself. The man released a muffled cry of surprise and jumped backward several feet.
Quite frankly, he was tired of getting this reaction from people. It had never happened to Barret as much as it happened to him. Unfortunately, people feared the darkness. When night approached, people lay their heads to rest and closed their eyes to block out the mysteries on night’s wing.
“My name is Death,” he said, getting straight to the point. No time to lose. The man’s eyes widened, but he didn’t take another step back. “I have reason to believe Life touched you five hundred years ago. Would you care to tell me what happened?”
The man reached for the cloth tied around his face but thought better of it and dropped his hands to his sides. He motioned for him to follow him into another room, and only then did he pull the cloth away from his face. Signs of aging were nonexistent, his skin smooth and free of wrinkles.
He didn’t seem surprised either when Betha showed herself to him.
“An arrow shot my horse in the leg during a war. I was thrown and left for dead in a ditch. An angel touched my head and healed me. He saved my life. I haven’t died or aged in five hundred years.”
The story sounded about right. The former Death had been killed five hundred years ago. Without her to dampen Life’s power, those touched by Barret would have been granted long lives. But immortality?
“Are you going to kill me?” the man asked, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“I can’t let you continue living. I will allow you to live out the rest of your years as a mortal.” He crossed his arms over his chest, a festering ache in his heart as he thought of Meira. But she had refused his offer. He had to find a new Life as quickly as possible. Saving Barret was his priority. “Or you can become the new Life and work by my side as my equal, the other side of the coin.”
Blowing out a long breath, the man stared at him with wide eyes as if to make certain Death was serious. He eyed the shadow hounds at his feet but didn’t seem surprised to see them. He had already been touched by an “angel.” Perhaps nothing could surprise him at this point.
“Will I get to save lives?” he asked. “My wife has been infected by the plague.”
Death briefly wondered how many wives this man had had in his long life. But he quickly shook the thought away and nodded. “You will save numerous lives. I can’t promise anything about your wife, but it’s possible.”
“Then I will do it.”
He internally rolled his eyes as he thought of Meira. Some people were born for this role like this man was. Others took some convincing. A lot of convincing. Besides, the man would be good for the role, especially since he already had a tendency to want to heal others.
“What is your name?”
“Isaac Pearson.”
Uncertainty raced across his spine as he stared back at Isaac. To give him the powers of Life, they would have to exchange breaths. He hadn’t dared to ask how Barret had turned him into Death, as he couldn’t remember during his excruciating pain, and he was also afraid of the answer. There had to be another way to give the powers of Life without kissing the man.
“You must breathe in my power,” Death said as he took a step closer. He exhaled a breath, shadows leaking from his mouth. Unexpectedly, intense heartache claimed his chest, each beat pounding with a physical pang. He sucked his breath back in too soon, the shadows returning to his mouth, much to Isaac’s confusion.
A lump of regret formed in his throat, difficult to swallow. “No.” He shook his head and met Time’s disbelieving stare. “I want it to be Meira.”
“Death, she already refused your offer.” Her slender hands grabbed his shoulders to shake some sense into him. “Isaac is the perfect candidate. He won’t die from your power. Why would you choose Meira over him?”
“I’m tired of being lonely.”
“She already refused the responsibilities of Life. So that would leave you with…how long did you say? Two weeks until her death? Do you think she would have you?”
