Page 35 of A Waltz with Lord Death
“He does not.”
“Yes, he does! Snatch him up before someone else does. Or I will snatch him up for you.”
A war of pinching and laughing commenced until her side hurt from both laughing too hard and getting pinched too many times. A warmth spread across her chest at the thought of Death. He had been nothing but kind and attentive since they’d met. He’d stepped in to take care of her needs without being asked and without expectation of being thanked or rewarded.
Elise was right. If she didn’t snatch him up, someone else would, and she would have lost her chance with him forever.
“Meira?” Elise whispered in a sleepy voice. “Will you stay by my side at the ball? Promise me you won’t leave me to endure my husband’s wandering flirtations alone.”
“I swear. You have my word.”
Chapter 15
Death swore out loud.
He lunged for one of his unruly shadow hounds, but in the process, he stepped in slick mud. His foot slipped alarmingly fast to the side, and he fell face first in a mound of slimy, sticky muck. The substance seeped into his clothes and covered his entire left side.
With a growl, he leaped to his feet and ordered the creatures back to his side, but they ignored his commands as his power grew hotter within him. He cleared his thoughts of everything but cool, powdery snow, of frigid icy lakes, of winter blizzards. Yet, his power grew stronger with each second.
His hounds jumped through wall after wall in the big city of Quinten before they jumped back out and passed through oblivious bodies walking down the streets. The moment they touched a person, they contracted the plague. Some continued walking unaware as they carried the deadly disease. Others seemed to notice it immediately as they rubbed their chests and breathing became more difficult than normal.
Barret, why did you have to go and die?
Emotion tugged at him as he watched in horror as his power spread across the entire city. Death dates flashed before him. Twenty seconds. Three days. Four days. Two weeks.
People died all the time. Escorting others to the otherworld was not new to him. But losing control of his power was new. His power surged like a gigantic wave moving across the ocean. But instead of crashing down, the wave continued to build. And build.
Heat gushed out of his body in the form of wispy shadows, and everyone within a twenty-foot radius dropped lifeless to the ground. He ran a hand over his dark stubble as he beheld the destruction around him. Dead bodies. Sickness. Non-healing ailments. Some people died from a mere kitchen knife accident. Others slipped into comas when their bodies couldn’t handle the stress his power put on them.
But worse than anything was how many spirits he’d escorted to the otherworld. They came in droves, barely enough room for everyone on the bridge during each batch.
With his power waning, exhaustion sat heavy on his shoulders. Heat transitioned into cold relief. His hounds returned to his side and sat on obedient haunches as if they hadn’t just wreaked havoc on an entire city.
A woman screamed when she spotted the circle of dead bodies. Others quickly joined her until a crowd gathered. Voices melded together in a loud, anxious hum like bees buzzing around their hive.
“Don’t touch them!” a man shouted as he shouldered his way through the crowd. “I am a doctor. Let me through!”
Although no one could see him, he slipped into the shadows of a building and watched with a heavy heart. The doctor checked body after body, shaking his head after each assessment.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
They were all dead, and it was his fault. If he could only control his power. If he could only harness Life’s power within himself. But at least it hadn’t been Meira. He swore to never lose control of his power near her. Which was precisely why he’d kept his distance lately. He knew this would happen. It had only been a matter of time.
A shudder of apprehension ran through him at the thought of the woman he loved. Only two more days until her death. Tonight, she would make her choice.
“Is this the plague?” someone shouted in the crowd, which encouraged a rumble of fear and anxiety.
“Lock your doors!” another person cried. “Don’t come out for anyone or anything.”
All too suddenly, chaos and fighting ensued as the crowd attempted to get to their families. Two men stumbled into each other, pushing and punching in their brawl. A woman got trampled in the stampede, and she didn’t get back up. The chaotic stampede continued down the street, and normally when Death refused to interfere with human affairs, his body became rigid at the sight of two small children, no older than seven, standing wide-eyed in the street. They didn’t move.
Not for the first time that day, he swore and transported sluggishly in front of the children. His well of power was nearly dry.
He reached out to move them out of the way but snatched his hands back at the last moment. If he touched them, they would die.
