“I don’t know, but be careful not to touch me,” I remind him since if he does, it’ll cause darkness to return.
“Right,” he says while he continues to scan our surroundings. “I don’t like this.”
I hesitate when I feel immense magic, and my attention snaps over to see War sitting astride his horse a good distance from us. He’s not moving at all, just watching us.
“Well, that’s fucking creepy,” Mickey says.
“So you’ve come to me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Chills race down my spine as I realize that I didn’t evensenseAemon until he was mere feet behind us. Mickey whirls around, his undead crowding around us while Toast darts toward the mansion only for the door to slam shut before he can slip inside.
I choke back the tension in my body and force myself to project confidence, even with the turmoil racing through me.
“You placed my horse inside the hourglass, so you can get him out, right?”
Aemon only offers me a smirk. “The sand is running out. You really don’t have much time left, Death.”
“What do you want from me to release him?” I ask. “I will do… anything. I need him out. I feel like I’ve been cleaved in two. I need him out.”
The god walks toward us as Mickey tries to tug me back by the edge of my shirt, but I stand my ground, shifting only so I’m between him and the mansion. That way I can keep War in my view as well. Aemon is silent, just watching me and appearing to be enjoying what he’s seeing.
I repeat, “Tell me what you want.”
“You have no control here. You came here knowing that you have no control over the situation. Just how desperate are you?” he asks with a smirk.
“You should know,” I say. “You just want me to beg.”
Aemon is so amused by all of this. It’s like he feeds off toying with me. “Why do you think I would just give you your horse? If I did, you could turn around and stab me in the back. With this, I have weakened you. You are nothing more than a human in this state. You will age and you will die. Although at the rate you’re going, you’re going to die before you even bother aging.”
“So that’s just it? Death is all there is left?”
“Depends on you. But I don’t believe for a second that you’re willing to just join me. You’ve fought so hard to throw yourself into my path every step of the way for hundreds of years. So what will you do in exchange for all the chaos you’ve caused? If it weren’t for you, Conquest would have completed his duties. Are you going to take his place?”
“Is that a possibility?”
If someone else could take Conquest’s place, wouldn’t War or Famine have done it?
I glance past Aemon and see that War still has not moved. He’s a good half mile from us, but why? Is he just watching, waiting to see if I do anything?
Aemon’s eyes shift past me to the mansion where the Door I created rests. Since the outer door to the mansion was shut, has Toast found a way to alert the others?
I only know I need to stall Aemon for as long as I possibly can. “All of this has been cryptic nonsense. You refuse to speak to me, yet expect me to join your side. All I see is death and destruction, yet you want me to jump on board without knowing why.”
The god throws back his head and laughs. He’s enjoying every second of this. He’s aware that he’s in control of this situation. “Do you know what happened the last time I told you my plans? You played me. You dragged me along and fed me stories about how you were prepared to assist me. And then you used all of it to tear me apart. You are conniving. The only difference right now is that you’re weak. So I’m not sure I even have a use for you.”
I watch him closely, knowing that he’s lying. There’s a reason he asked me to come here. He’s not going to push me away now that I’m here. He wants to see how desperate I am.
Aemon suddenly smiles. “How about this. I willfixthe hourglass, but I cannot repair the damage that’s already done. And then, if you prove to me that you’re worth it, I will keep you alive.”
I notice that he never said that he’ll release my horse, just that he’ll “keep me alive.” Likely stringing me along, only giving me enough to keep death at bay.
He holds his hand out. “Give me the hourglass if you’d like it to be fixed.”
I don’t know what I was expecting, but I have absolutely no desire to hand over the hourglass. The very thought of it causes anxiety to wash through me while I wrap my burned hand around it.
“How do you expect me to fix it without letting me touch it?”
I look up and suddenly discover that War is gone. I can no longer see him as I step back. “Where is War?”
