“I had to choose whether to pluck it out or retire. I chose to keep it and hopefully win you over.” He steps closer, biting his lip. “Even though I knew you might still hate me.” He clears his throat. “I know that everything I am disgusts you, but I don’t have to kill anymore. So maybe, if you had enough time, you could, I don’t know. . .” He swallows.
Death’s standing in front of me, proverbial hat in hand.
It’s absolutely impossible.
“Whoa,” I say. “That’s a lot of information to process.”
“I know.” Xolotl backs down a step. “For me as well.” He frowns. “I’ve never been able to read your mind, but I didn’t realize how much I relied on that ability with others.” He sighs heavily. “I suppose that’s gone with my retirement, and it’s unsettling, having no idea what anyone’s thinking.”
“You retired for my sister, so now are there just three horsemen?” Gabe asks. “Or, what? Because if there’s a job opening. . .”
Izzy slaps him as hard as she can. “Go inside, idiot.”
“Look, I’m just saying, okay.” Gabe’s smiling, but he does duck through the front door and disappear.
Moments later, my mom bursts through the front door with a tray covered in lemonade glasses. “I heard some people out here might be thirsty.”
Izzy glances at Xolotl and starts laughing.
I hit her this time. “Shut up, idiot. Actual thirst.”
“Maybe both.” If she doesn’t stop looking at Xolotl like that, I might hit her much, much harder.
“Could we go for a walk?” Xolotl asks.
“I think you should,” Leonid says. “Even if you don’t like him, he’s earned a walk by retiring, right?” He and Izzy keep glancing at each other.
“What?” I prod Izzy.
She shrugs. “It’s—as grand gestures go, leaving a job he’s had for thousands of years is a pretty good one. He gave up who he is for you.”
I can’t argue with her there. “Fine,” I say. “We can take a walk.”
“Should I come?” Gabe pokes his head out of the doorway. “I can bring my rifle, and if he gets any ideas?—”
“Gabe.” I glare.
He throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. I’ll stay here.” But he’s smiling.
No one likes the supernatural things that have joined our family like my little brother does. I swear, I hear him almost every night, praying that he might one day be able to shift into a horse. It’s ridiculous.
Or maybe, in light of recent events, not that ridiculous.
“Where should we walk?” Xolotl holds out his hand.
Is he asking me to take it? Like I’d walk along hand in hand with death?
Alexei whistles and hoots.
Grigoriy does, too, only louder.
Leonid and Izzy both catcall, which is absurd.
“I’m going to kill them all.”
“You’re making a joke, I assume?” Xolotl’s watching me carefully. “I no longer have my life-extinguishing powers, but my elemental abilities can certainly deprive them of?—”
I snatch his hand and drag him all the way down from the porch and toward Birch Creek at the back of our property. “It’s just a joke,” I say. “But if they keep being so annoying, I might let you.”
