The Four Horsemen 2 - War (14 page)

A hard nudge to his shoulder woke War up and he opened his eyes to see a long black leather boot in front of his face. He studied it, trying to get his mind up to speed and figure out who owned the boot.

“Get up.”
Blinking, he groaned. “Why are you here?”
Death snorted and poked him again with his foot. “I’m here to get you. There’s work to

be done. I can’t have you lazing around all the time. It’s bad for business.”
“What sort of business is that?” Russell spoke up from where he lay, facing the opposite
direction.
War sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face while he thought about Death’s
appearance. “I can’t leave. Russell isn’t experienced enough to get the horses back to the hut
with the dogs. Maybe if he had a little more time out here he’d be able to do it.” “I’ll get someone to come and help him.” Death crossed his arms in front of his chest
and glared at War. “You really don’t have any choice in the matter. It’s your job.” “I do think I have a choice. This war—or whatever you want to call it—can wait a day
while I take the herd back.” War had never told Death no before.
He meant what he’d said. Russell wasn’t capable at the moment of herding the horses
and getting them back to the pens without something going wrong. War remembered how
long it had taken him to learn from the nomadic herders when he’d arrived in Mongolia. Death didn’t look happy about it. Russell groaned, rolled out from under the covers
and stood, stretching and yawning. Both War and Death stared at him, ogling his naked
form.
“I can see why you lust after him,” Death commented casually.
Russell blushed fiery red and snatched up his clothes, dashing for the closest tree.
Luckily there were a few on the banks of the river. They watched him scurry away before
War stood and dressed, unconcerned about being naked in front of Death.
“You didn’t have to embarrass him like that.”
Death shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d be bothered by my words. Are you sure you can’t
come right now?”
“Yes.”
The Pale Rider heaved an annoyed sigh and grimaced. “Fine. I guess I should help you
and we’ll get this taken care of faster.”
War shot him an incredulous glance. “You’re going to herd horses with me?” “You sound surprised? I can ride any horse, and not just my mount as a Horseman.”
Death rested his hands on his hips and glared at War. “I rode horses most of my life when I
was alive. Aside from carriages, they were the only mode of transportation that didn’t
include walking, and I wasn’t going to walk anywhere.”
“Too good for that, huh?” Russell came out from behind the tree, clothes on and a
disgruntled look on his face. “Do you get a kick out of sneaking up on people like that?” ”A man of my social position simply didn’t walk anywhere in Paris while I was
mortal.” Death sniffed.
“Did you die during the French Revolution?” Russell’s narrowed eyes threw sparks at
Death.
“No. A couple of years before actually. The French Revolution was the first large-scale
event I dealt with when I became Death.” The pale-haired man seemed rather smug about
the whole thing.
“I’m guessing you were an aristocrat, which is why you never walked anywhere. How
can you be so smug about the massacre that was the French Revolution? Wasn’t it your own
people who died?” Russell started to roll up the blankets, even while taking Death to task for
his callousness.
“I never considered them my people. Trust me, if they’d known the truth about me,
they would have shunned me. They only accepted me into their society because I had
money.”
“So you were a rich man, but without a title?”
Death’s jaw tightened and War could see the man’s usual cool detachment starting to
fray. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but he was curious to see how Death
would respond to Russell’s question.
“This is the last thing I will say. I was the only son of a very rich man, but we had no
title and so were tolerated in Parisian society because of our money.” Death took a deep
breath and looked at War. “Are we going? If we don’t leave now, I will drag you to your
horse and force you to come with me, leaving him to get your herd home without help.” War winced as it became apparent that Russell had touched a raw nerve. He moved off
to get the horses ready.
He turned back and asked, “Are you going to ride? I don’t have an extra saddle.” Death stared at him for a moment. “I will ride without a saddle. Just throw a blanket on
one of your horses and use a rope as a hackamore. I promise not to be rough on my mount. I
can’t use my own horse for this. Your herd would panic if he came close.”
“Where do your horses go when you’re not using them?” Russell had finished packing
their stuff into the saddlebags and had them tossed over one shoulder.
Death wandered off, not acknowledging him. Russell laughed softly.
“Guess I pissed him off with my questions, huh?”
“I think you touched on a sore subject for him. I don’t think he’s ever taken the time to
think about his former life. He seems bitter about his station in life and, to be honest, he has a
right to be. During his time, bastards weren’t treated nearly as well as they are now. The
illegitimate son of a nobleman and a maid was something to be ashamed of back in those
days.”
“Do you think his mother was a maid?”
War shot Russell a glance. “It doesn’t matter what position his mother held. She was
obviously not a member of the ruling class.”
Russell shrugged. “No wonder he didn’t act upset about the whole French Revolution.” “Whatever. Can we just focus on getting back to the house before he kidnaps me? I
don’t think he was bluffing.”
War took a pair of saddlebags from Russell and put them over his horse’s withers. He
helped Russell mount and went to see if Death needed assistance. The pale man studied his
horse for a moment before leaping lightly up on him. With a rather smug smile, Death met
War’s gaze.
“Don’t get too proud of yourself, you arrogant prick,” War muttered.
“Are you going to answer my question? Where do your horses go when you’re not
being the Horsemen?” Russell returned to the conversation as they got the herd moving in
the right direction.
“They aren’t real horses. They are spirits provided to us for our missions. When they
are no longer needed, they disappear back to wherever they come from.” Death kept his eyes
on the horses, not looking at either of them.
“I guess that makes as much sense as you even existing in the first place,” Russell
murmured, loud enough for War to hear him, but not so loud that Death would. “Where are
you dragging War off to now?”
“None of your business. You no longer fight, so you have no worries about where
battles are taking place.” Death dismissed Russell with a vague wave of his hand. “Why shouldn’t I be concerned where my fellow soldiers might be sent to next?”
Russell spoke up, his angry tone surprising Death.
War rolled his shoulders. He was tired of their antagonism towards each other. Thank
God, Death rarely hung out with him, or else he might have had to gag them both. “Not all the battles and skirmishes War starts are big enough to be fought by armies.
Sometimes it is simply a fight amongst gangs or small squabbles.” Death gestured towards
War. “Little fights can have the same effect on people as great wars. His power brings those
emotions to the surface and helps work out the imbalance in the world.”
“Who gives these assignments? Do you decide where a fight should break out or where
Pestilence needs to appear?”
Death growled low in his throat. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated by you. I came
to help and yet all I get is questions. None of what happens with the Horsemen is any of your
business. You shouldn’t even know we exist, yet for some strange reason it is allowed by our superiors. I should have been given the order to wipe your brain clean and send you back to
Kansas.”
He rode off, with Russell and War staring after him in shock. Russell looked over at
War and held his hands up.
“What did I do? I didn’t think my questions were
that
bad. I mean, I stayed away from
any personal stuff.”
War leaned over and patted Russell’s knee. “Questioning Death isn’t something people
usually do. I don’t think he likes it much.”
Russell snorted. “You think? Well, come on. I promise not to talk at all since we need to
get these horses home before you leave.”
“Yeah. Let’s do it. The quicker I leave, the sooner I can get back.”
They nudged their mounts and went their separate ways around the herd.

Staring out over the sand, War pictured what the place had looked like the last time he’d been there. The sand was the same and he laughed. Like sand ever changed. Only the shape of the dunes had changed because of the wind. Hell, some of the grains could have been there all those centuries ago.

Missing were the tents and people going about their daily chores. The women tending the wounded were gone, along with the exhaustion that had swamped him as he’d stood on the outcropping looking down at his tribe. No rush of satisfaction at winning the battle or gut churning sorrow at what he had to do.

He turned to look at the ground behind him. There once had been a darker spot where Asad’s blood had spilt onto it, yet nothing remained of such a pivotal moment in War’s mortal life.

He didn’t look up when Death approached him. He continued to eye the dirt, seeing in his memories Asad’s death throes and his confession of all the evil he’d done.
“Did you think this spot would look different? The terrible thing you did should have marked this place, like sowing it with salt or something like that?”
When it was put that way, War felt silly, but some part deep inside him had thought it would be different. Killing Asad had damaged War’s heart in a fundamental way. Maybe because he had been War’s best friend and had betrayed him, or possibly because his best friend had been a psychotic bastard who’d had no problem hurting girls to promote his own cause.
“You need to let go of this guilt you’ve been carrying for centuries, War. None of what happened was your fault. We’ve told you that and you nod like you’re listening, but I feel you do that because you think that’s what we want to see.”
Death’s words shattered the wall War had built around his guilt, guarding it like the Hope Diamond. Russell had created cracks with his love and reassurance, and the bricks had begun to tumble, but it took Death to take the last bit down.
“You’re right.” He glanced over at Death and smiled. “It wasn’t my fault, though I’ll always accept some of the blame for not listening when I was told no one from the other tribe had done those things to the girls.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. You probably should have done more investigating, but hindsight’s twenty-twenty, comrade, and you had to go with what you had at the time.” Death waved a hand to encompass the entire desert landscape in front of them. “During your time, life was harsh and you didn’t have the luxury to figure out the truth. You had to act on what you knew. You’d never doubted anything Asad had told you before, so why would you then?”
“True.”
War scuffed his foot over the section of sand where Asad had died, a maniacal gleam in his eyes as he declared he was the wronged party in the whole thing. Yet the truth swirled in front of War and shone in the faces of the girls Asad had violated and killed. He’d seen cold vengeance in the eyes of his own assassin as the boy had slid the blade into his chest. Whatever sacrifice had been needed to make up for the wrong done to the innocent tribe had been paid with War’s death.
“What makes it different this time? Why are you ready to let everything go now?”
War shrugged. “I think it has to do with talking to Russell and trying to convince him his guilt is misplaced. I guess I finally listened to the words.”
“Let go of the past and go embrace your future. Russell is waiting for you to return. He needs your help to accept what he’s gone through.” Death kept his gaze on the dunes in front of them. “You have been good for each other.”
“I know.” War swallowed and said out loud what he’d been hesitant to say to Russell. “I love him.”
“I know.” Death gave him a flash of a smile. “Now go tell him that.”
“All right. I hope I don’t see you soon.” War whistled for his horse and swung astride the red stallion when it appeared. “Goodbye, Death.”
Death didn’t acknowledge him; simply waited until the clap of thunder told him War had gone. “Goodbye, Baqir. We’ll not be seeing each other again.”
His horse landed in front of War’s hut, and War climbed off. He patted the stallion on the shoulder and the horse nudged him once before whirling around and leaping into the air. Another crash of thunder and it was gone.
Russell stepped from the house, wiping his hands on a towel. “Was it successful?”
War shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think Death is the only one who ever finds out if what we do works or not.”
“And he wouldn’t tell you, even if you spitted him and roasted him over a fire.”
“Rather vicious, aren’t you?”
He strolled over to where Russell stood, grabbed Russell’s shoulders and brought their lips together. He took his time, teasing every nook and cranny of Russell’s mouth, and drawing moans from Russell.
Russell encircled War’s waist and pulled their bodies together. War grunted when his erection crashed into Russell’s. Finally, when both men had used up all their oxygen and their knees were getting wobbly, War broke off the kiss and brushed Russell’s hair from his lover’s forehead.
“I missed you,” War admitted.
“I missed you as well, though it was only a day or two since you left.” Russell winked. “I found I didn’t like sleeping alone.”
“I didn’t sleep at all. I tried to get done as soon as possible, so I could get back here.” War stopped, then met Russell’s gaze. “I went to the place where I killed Asad.”
Russell took his hand and led him inside to the bed. They lay back, arms wrapped around each other. War rested his head on Russell’s shoulder.
“How did that go?” Russell asked softly.
“I finally let go of all the guilt I felt, not only for going to war with an innocent tribe, but for believing Asad in the first place. I’ve listened to Death tell me over and over it wasn’t my fault. I guess I never really believed him deep inside.” War pulled back to look Russell in the eye. “It took talking to you and trying to convince you of the fact you aren’t guilty for me to accept the truth.”
Russell’s smile held a depth of caring War hadn’t seen before. “I have to confess something. I know we’ve spent very little time together when I wasn’t in the hospital, but I think I more than like you. I think I love you.”
War swallowed and nodded. “I’ll confess to that. I love you as well. I had a revelation whilst I stood in the sand. It’s been a long time since I really loved anyone. Too hard to watch someone you love grow old and die while you don’t age.”
“I can see where that would be difficult. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” Russell kissed him.
War kissed him back before chuckling and easing away. “I didn’t seem to have a choice. Death saw to it.”
“For all that he’s a cold-hearted bastard, he seems to have your interests in mind. Why didn’t he stop you from spending time with me? I’m sure he could’ve thrown his weight around and done something to make me forget all about you.”
“True.”
War rolled over on his back and let Russell settle between his legs. “I don’t want to talk about Death any more. I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you deep inside me and know I’m the only one you’ll be sleeping with for the rest of your life.”
“You’re the only man I’ve ever loved, and I don’t see that changing.”
They stopped talking and started stroking all the places they’d learnt made their desire build. Soon they were naked, and focused on loving each other. War wrapped his lips around Russell’s nipples while Russell fisted War’s cock. They wiggled and shifted, rubbing against each other.
“Where’s the lube?” War asked.
Russell stuck his hand under one of the pillows and popped the top, squirting slick over his fingers. War grabbed his knees and pulled them back, spreading wide to give Russell as much room as he needed.
“Oh man,” War moaned as Russell sank his fingers into his ass.
He closed his eyes and undulated, fucking himself while absorbing the joy of Russell’s love. Before too long, he was ready to have more than just fingers inside him. He reached down and grabbed Russell’s wrist.
“I want you in me,” he said when Russell met his gaze.
“All right.”
War groaned as Russell moved away and he heard the pop of the lube bottle again. He opened his eyes to watch Russell coat his dick before settling back between his legs. War kept his eyes glued to Russell’s as his lover sank into him, filling him the way he wanted.
When Russell’s pubic hair scraped War’s ass, they both froze for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being one body and soul. The tableau broke when War arched his back and tightened his muscles, massaging Russell’s shaft.
“Fuck,” Russell swore and began to thrust into War hard and fast.
War braced one hand against the wall above his head and fisted his own cock, pumping in time to Russell’s strokes. They moved in perfect harmony, driving each other closer to exploding with each long steady push in. Soon War balanced on the razor-shape edge and he needed something to send him over.
“God, I love you,” Russell murmured as he slammed in.
His words were what War had been waiting for. His climax shot through him, firing every nerve ending and flooding his body with pleasure. Russell threw his head back and shouted as his cum spilled into War, claiming him from the inside out. As Russell’s climax eased, he collapsed to the side of War and they drifted off to sleep.