Page 36 of A Waltz with Lord Death
But when he turned back to the stampede, he realized they were too close. He did the only thing he thought he could do—he revealed himself in his full power.
His eyes darkened to onyx. The remaining power in his well surged from his body in a haze of wispy shadows. They slithered across the ground, moving around people but not touching. Screams began anew. People stumbled backward. Others simply stared. A man near the front soiled himself. He might have laughed if he wasn’t so damn exhausted.
His well flickered out, and although his shadows smashed back into his body, making his head spin for a moment, no one moved. They all just stared. Silence echoed through the city, quieter than a sanctuary full of monks in prayer.
He turned and noted the children’s wide-eyed stares. The two young girls clung to each other. One of them whimpered. Their lifespans dated years from now. They would not die. Not today. Not for a while.
“I would suggest you move out of the street,” he murmured to the children.
They hastened away, but not before glancing back at him one last time. One girl held immense fear in her eyes. The younger one appeared curious. His heart jumped in surprise. Curious? Since when had that ever beenanyone’sfirst impression of him?
Whispers rolled through the now-still crowd like wind brushing tall grass.Lord Death. The devil. A demon. Powerful. Are we going to die? Someone do something!
No one moved as if his power held them in his thrall. Yet, he’d exhausted every last drop of it. Weariness threatened to collapse him to the cold, snowy pavement. His knees nearly buckled beneath his weight.
Before he would allow anyone to see him so weak, he cloaked himself yet again. Although he still stood before the crowd, they began moving, their whispers slowly transitioning to shouts and cries. Chaos ensued once more, but this time he did nothing to stop it. The children were safe. There was nothing more for him to do.
Exhaustion deepened within him. His breathing became ragged. His vision blurred for a few moments until he blinked several times to disperse the hazy scenery. He stumbled forward on blind feet, following an invisible thread. One that led to familiarity. To safety. To home.
His hounds skulked at his side, heads bowed low with shame.
And worse than anything, his entire body burned with fatigue. Fire spread through his veins like wildfire, licking their way up his neck, engulfing his head. Beads of sweat dotted his brow despite the chilly weather. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt hot. Burning hot. Raging hot.
The castle loomed closer with each pained step he took. He attempted to transport, but when his well was so dry, he only managed to deplete his energy further. Darkness swam in his head, rising higher and higher until it overtook his vision. He was hardly aware of falling through a set of double doors of the stable before he hit something cold and solid.
****
Meira jumped a foot off the ground in fright as someone burst through the barn doors. But instead of charging toward her, they fell forward and slumped into a heap on the ground.
“Oh my heavens,” she murmured. She rushed toward the man. But the moment she turned him around, she gasped and dropped her hands. Death lay before her, unconscious. Perspiration clung to his skin. Half his body was covered in dry, flaking mud, and a trickle of blood dripped from his nose.
“I thought you didn’t need to sleep!” she cried. Tears sprang to her eyes and clouded her vision, but she quickly wiped the moisture away and glanced about for help. The stable hands had left to aid the first arrivals for the ball down from their carriages. She had just come from a short ride to the market and back.
Death didn’t answer her but continued to lie still.
Stifling a sob at the back of her throat, she wrapped her arms around his waist and heaved him onto a pile of straw. When he still didn’t stir, she rushed over to a horse trough in the corner, picked up a shovel, and slammed it into the thick layer of ice on the surface of the water. The ice caved in, and the moment the water greeted her, she grabbed a cloth from a nearby hook and dunked it into the frigid water. She wiped it over his face, clearing the mud from his skin and wiping the blood from his nose.
Behind her, shadow hounds whined and lay their wispy heads on his feet.
“Are you just going to sit there? Or are you going to do something?”
The hounds’ only reply was yet another whine.
She turned back to him and slapped his cheek. Nothing. She tugged on his hair. Nothing. She dribbled water over his face. Nothing.
“Please be all right,” she begged. Her heart ached at the thought of losing him. Nothing else mattered but hearing his voice again, seeing his smile. She thought nothing of herself as she gathered his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. His soft, still lips tasted of darkness, of mystery and intrigue, which mingled with the hope and desperation rising within her.
Nothing.
She kissed him again and again, but no power of Life came over her. No tingling sensation. No transformation from mortal to immortal.
And then she realized he wasn’t breathing.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at his chest, desperately hoping for it to rise and fall with breath. But it remained still. Shock washed over her. Was Death…dead? How could that be true?
Only one person would know what to do.
Cradling his limp hand in both of hers, she half shrieked, half sobbed, “Time! Betha! Where are you? Please help us.”
