Paradise Made

Thirty-Five: Death On Horseback

Everything fell apart all at once. One second there was hope, and the next I was staring death in the face, literally. He did not conceal himself from the human vision like Petulance had, standing almost proudly before the quivering mortals, seated upon a pitch black horse with eyes like empty skeletal sockets.

I was holding Hoel right before it happened, hanging back, looking for some obvious angels to deliver him to, when his eyes had flown open. That was the first warning sign.

"No!" He'd spoken feverishly, like he was still dreaming, having some sort of nightmare. "We have to get out of here."

The second thing was Azazel. He loitered near the steps to the building, under the flapping flags of countless nations. Like a bad omen he watched, and I knew Pen saw him too from the way he tensed up.

Then the horsemen himself appeared, in all of his dark glory. Screams filled the air. There was talk of the apocalypse and then there was this. The citizens of New York had not been prepared for fear in its purest form standing before them.

There was no buildup, no presentation. He did it before I even had time to fully process that he was there. He held Tamiel's limp body with one arm, and with the other he slammed his curved scythe through her heart. Everything was silent, time slowed to a trickle. The only sound in the tunnel my perception had narrowed to was Kasdaye's scream. She fell to her knees like her life had been ripped from her as well.

In the peripheral, I was vaguely aware that angels were making a move for the hooded figure, but I could see nothing but Tamiel. Death let her slide from his scythe, crumpling limply to the ground. Then he slashed the weapon through the air and a shock wave shot out like an extension of the blade. Every angel was sent flying, Hoel included, and I was left plastered to the ground, world spinning, head throbbing from where it had made contact with the street.

When I sat up the hood had fallen from the horseman's head. I knew that face, ice blue eyes, brown hair. It was Lucifer himself, and he was laughing. He walked through the bodies of the angels, horse hooves one of the only sounds. All were fixated on him, frozen in fear, except for one. Kasdaye was oblivious, cradling Tamiel to her chest. Her cries were silent, but she rocked ever so slightly.

The fourth horseman. Death. The devil. As he scanned the crowd his eyes landed on me, only momentarily. Then there were hands on my shoulders, and Pen was whispering in my ear.

"Come on, get up. We have to go. Come on. Come on."

He was forcibly pulling me to my feet.

"Kasdaye," I pointed helplessly at the angel as Pen dragged me away.

She sat crumpled on the concrete, so small, strands of dirty blonde hair hanging down over a tear stained face. In her arms, Tamiel, her front matted with blood. As I fought against Pen, Lucifer disappeared, the horse and rider galloping into invisibility. IRIN agents began to get to their feet, ever so slowly, but they gave Kasdaye a wide berth.

"She'll be of no use to us like that," Pen said.