Ink and Shadows (27 page)

“It was good thinking to hold the human’s soul here,” Death reassured Min, her face bunched with worry. “I could feel it.”

“It was the only thing I could think of, and I couldn’t hold it for very long. I screwed up. I told him he had nothing to worry about.” Min’s helplessness rose, her anger fighting to overcome her fears. The hardest of the Four, she struggled with her emotions, angry at herself for dismissing the threat of the gun and then for the helplessness that took her over as she held Mal’s blood in her hands. “I let Mal down, Death. I’m sorry, but I let you down too.”

“No, you didn’t,” the eldest replied. “You did what you could. It was more than enough.”

Mal drifted in and out of consciousness, waking long enough to ask after Kismet. He floated back away when Death reassured the youngest Horseman that they’d found the young man safe. The eldest was much more worried about Mal than the shivering, angry young man Ari stood near. The blond Horseman shifted on his feet, his version of pacing off lengths, his back to the concrete block wall of the building and his eyes scanning the streets around them for trouble.

“We have to get out of here, Death. We have to hide the boy too. I think he’s coming down from something.” Ari checked on Kismet, watching him shiver as the drugs faded from the young man’s veins. “There’s blood all over the pavement, and it’s a matter of time before the cops move down from the grocery store and spread out to find us.”

“I’m not a chair. You guys seem to think I can’t hear you,” Kismet spat. The release of anger made his head throb. The unfamiliar man glanced his way, and Kismet wrapped his arms tight around his waist, trying not to shake his teeth loose. “Can we move Mal? Take him home? Well, where you guys live? Can you help him there?”

“He’s been shot, you piece of shit.” Lunging forward, Min balled her fist and aimed for the human’s head. “He got hurt because of you. The stupid shit came looking for you, and this is what he got for it.”

Ari nudged her away from Kismet’s side, easily turning the petite woman away with a hard shove. “Back off of him, Min. This isn’t his fault.”

“No, he’s not to blame,” Death said softly. “Neither are you.”

They’d had to pull Min off the young man when Death arrived. The shock of Mal’s injury fueled her anger as she drove her fists into the young man’s belly. Kismet tucked himself into a ball to escape the blows, unable to do anything more than protect his head from the woman’s furious assault. Ari grabbed her mace, tugging it free from Min’s clenched hands before she struck Kismet with it. She’d continued to go after the human with her bare hands, the other Horsemen unable to stop her in time. A bruise bloomed on his cheekbone, red welts left from her knuckles.

As the heroin left him, a lethargy wormed through Kismet. Sweat dewed over his chilled skin, soaking into his thin shirt. Kismet’s mind boiled behind dazed eyes. Even breathing was a tortured exercise in movement. Small things were returning to him, his tongue able to moisten his lips, and the aching pain of torn skin on his hands made him want to weep, but no tears fell from his nearly unblinking lids.

The smell of the young man’s body was vaguely familiar to Ari, and he tried to place where he’d first smelled the odor of burned flesh mingled with salt and metals. He could see the boy slowly numbing before his eyes, his body stilling in an attempt to hold on to every grain of drug he’d injected.

“I think we’re going to have to find Auntie Kay.” Death chewed at his lip. “I think that bullet pushed a piece of something from the outside world into him. It’s too much for his body to work out.”

“Damn it.” Ari stared down at their youngest. “Just like that Wisdom.”

“Hopefully, not like that Wisdom,” Death corrected. “She died, remember?”

“Mal can die?” Kismet stuttered, a chill curling his insides. The shakes were impossible to control, and he struggled to make himself understood. “I thought you guys can’t die. What the hell?”

Death lifted Mal’s shoulders, easing the immortal up, concerned over their youngest family member. The wound worried him. While the bleeding stopped, his skin knitted over the bullet, sealing a slice of reality inside of his body. It would continue to work through Mal’s tissues, possibly driving him insane or, worse, making him want to leave them behind.

“You sure about Auntie Kay?” Ari sighed, rubbing at his face for a brief moment, his keen gaze falling back on the young artist shivering at his feet. “She’s not always helpful. We might get to where she is, and she slams the door in our face.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Death said, stretching out a kink in his shoulder. Cradling Mal in his lap, the eldest Horseman felt the younger man’s heartbeat falter and then strengthen. “She likes Mal. She’ll help him.”

“Do you know where she is?” Ari asked.

“She’s in San Francisco, last time I checked.” Death tested the curtain’s strength around them, the breaks subsiding as the drugs left the boy’s blood. “I’m guessing she’s still there. Kay’s not one to give up some place she feels comfortable in unless she’s pushed out.”

“I’m going with you.” Min turned on her heel, rubbing at her arms. Cold seemed to dig into her bones, the sight of Mal lying against Death’s leg chilling her deep. “I got him into this mess. I have to see this through.”

“You’re too tired to take more than one. Just take Mal with you,” Ari said.

Death gazed up at his friend’s face, seeing worry etched along the Horseman’s strong features. Min’s hackles rose, challenging Ari with a tilt of her chin.

“Think for once, Min. Death’s done too much this afternoon….”

“You’re going,” she countered.

“I’m old enough that I don’t need a calling to get there. I just can’t carry your sorry ass with me.” Ari pushed in close to her, staring her down. “You can watch the boy.”

“Fuck the boy,” Min snarled.

“I don’t want this to become crossing the river in too small of a boat,” Death responded. “A bag of grain, a goose, and a fox. I can’t leave Min alone with Kismet. We can’t leave him alone. And I know you too well, Ari. You wouldn’t want to leave me there if I’m too weak, and someone has to talk to Auntie Kay. She won’t have anything to do with me.

“I’ll take Min with me.” Death adjusted his hold on Mal, trying to lift as much of the younger man off the ground as possible. “And we have to take the boy. You know that.”

“There are times when I hate you as much as I want you.” Ari gritted his teeth, leaning his head back in frustration. “Yeah, we can’t leave the boy. Lust can’t be the only one hunting him down. Whoever called up that bird will be hot on his trail.”

“We can knock him on the head, tie him up, and leave him in the penthouse. He’s probably stolen everything he could already,” Min offered. She threw her hands up in surrender at the glares both men gave her. “It was a suggestion.”

“A bad one, Min. Last thing I want on top of his injuries and withdrawal is a concussion.” Death nodded toward the young man sitting down. “Bring Kismet over to me, Ari. It’ll help if he’s nearby when I do this. I won’t have to stretch as far outward to include both of them.”

“I’ll wait for you there. If you’re too tired, we’re staying in the city.” Ari gave one final sorrowful look at his ruined Mustang. “Bye, baby. It was good having you.”

“You can kiss the car farewell later, Ari. I’ll see you in San Francisco, then,” Death admonished Ari, urging the blond to help him get Mal up off the ground. “Min, hold on to Kismet, and don’t choke him. I’m going to have to have you very near.”

“Don’t get lost.” Ari touched Death’s shoulder with a brush of his fingers. “Please.”

“I won’t,” Death said, seeing the concern in his oldest friend’s face. “I’ll see you there, Ari. I promise.”

S
AN
F
RANCISCO
was a city used to death. The streets held more than their share of tears and pain beneath the gaily wrapped package of buildings and trolley cars. Buried under tons of dirt and asphalt lay the ruins of lives, specters continuing their endless, eternal searching for family lost in rubble or fires, sometimes floating to the hilltops and screaming their agony into the fog. Faces swirled in the mists, the Veil over the city nearly as clotted with memories as it was with shadows. It was an easy city for Death to find and one of the hardest for him to walk through.

Chinatown was the simplest place for Death to find in the city. Small nooks and crannies made it easy for him to slide through the ether and locate a presence about to leave the mortal world. It was harder to shake off the area’s ghosts, each weighted with the belief that Death held the answer to end their misery. Death avoided those specters if he could. If he didn’t, then he would waste too much of Mal’s time speaking to the unwilling dead.

Death’s hold on the Veil broke nearly as soon as he located the calling he needed. Carrying others through the curtain was something he rarely did, the drain on his strength too great for it to be a common occurrence. He’d only tried to carry, at the most, himself and the other Horsemen, only discovering he was able to take other immortals when an injured Peace stumbled into a battle between darkfae forces. Now Death regretted ever learning he could take others with him through the Veil, especially since his innards began quarreling as soon as San Diego disappeared around them.

Clouds greeted them in the folds of the Veil, a simple step into the shadows that split open to envelop them. Maneuvering within the ether took little skill, but finding a mortal location in the chaos was often problematic, especially when ghosts screamed and cried for him as he passed.

Carrying extra sentient weight with him made moving difficult, something Death anticipated, but it wasn’t until he fully fell into the Veil that he realized that carrying a catatonic Kismet and an unconscious Mal would render him nearly immobile. Min’s assistance in moving forward nearly unseated them from his calling, her own purpose dragging them in a different direction, aiming for parts of the world that she seemed to rule with an iron fist.

Pushing his stronger will against hers, Death careened them back on track, all the while hoping they would reach the bridged city without any further harm to Mal’s damaged body. Kismet was nearly dead weight, neither a hindrance nor a help, drawn by nothing and empty of any calling.

Amid the darkness, a bright, familiar soul flared along the trail. Ari’s call to Death held frustration, worry, and usually affection in Death’s weary mind. Holding tight to the spot of Ari shining through the Veil’s darkness, Death focused and pulled the others along, leaving a large wake in the rippling shadows.

Death almost dropped Mal when they hit the street, Ari rescuing the youngest Horseman before they tumbled to the hard ground. Death fell to one knee, his stomach emptying into the gutter filled with cast-off takeout containers and rotted vegetables. Bile clung to the back of his teeth, a bitter yellow taste burning the roof of his mouth.

The city was cast in night and streetlights, a half-hidden moon winking out from behind clouds. It had been just at the crest of sunset when they’d left San Diego, the sun riding the horizon in preparation for a long night. For the darkness to have fallen, hours would have had to pass, Death reasoned through the nausea, the fight through the Veil draining the last of his reserves.

They’d lost too much time in the fold, Death realized when he felt Ari’s hands on his back, the other Horseman easing him onto his haunches, cupping his chin, and running fingers over the circles under Death’s eyes. Death glanced up at the sky, then at the other Horsemen, troubled by what he saw around him.

The moon shouldn’t have been up, and Min’s blue-lipped shivers were no comfort. Mal’s body moved softly with his breathing, a comforting sight for Death. Kismet stumbled as well, his lanky body rolling and striking an outcropping on the nearby building. The young man’s fall had been an ungraceful tangle of arms and legs, barking his elbows and knees on the stone surround of the alley. Kismet’s instinctual mewl of pain as he moved his leg was sharp, eyes focused and aware, a far cry from the walking slumber he’d been in prior to their fold in the Veil.

“Gods, Shi.” Ari hitched the slender man up, wrapping strong arms around the elder Horseman’s shoulders. Ignoring Mal and shivering Min, Ari breathed hard into Death’s ebony hair, Ari holding the other tight against him. “What the fuck happened in there? You took so long. I nearly thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m okay. Are they okay? I just need to know that the others made it through.” Death patted at Ari’s bulging arm, barely able to breathe under the stronger man’s crushing grip. “It was just harder to move than I would have liked. I could feel you against the Veil. You’re what I pulled on to get us here. Next time we do this—”

“There’s not going to be a next time.” Ari held Death’s face in the cup of his palm, lightly tasting the other’s mouth with his own, refusing to let him go. Death savored the sweet heat he found there, regretfully pulling away before he fell into it. Ari didn’t fight the retreat, knowing Death was too raw from the day’s trials to have another row about their dancing around one another.

“I’ve been sick.” Death turned his head when Ari released him. “That can’t be a good taste. Where are the others?”

“Min’s helping the kid and his pet. They look fine,” Ari said, his voice rough with emotion. “And you taste just fine to me.”

“How long were we gone?” Death gladly accepted Ari’s assistance in getting to his feet. Aches echoed in his body, shoulders knitted tight from the tension of riding through the Veil. “Are you all right?”

“It’s nearly midnight. See? The bird bites are all healed,” Ari said with relief. Death was back to plotting their path, his focused mind honed in on what they’d come for. “The woman’s just a bit away. You nearly landed on her doorstep.”

“Good.” Death shuddered at the thought of having to hunt for the Seer in San Francisco’s neighborhoods. Warrens of buildings barely leaning against one another hid doorways that the woman might hide behind. He’d wasted too much time as it was. The Veil might have sustained Mal, enveloping the reality inside of him.