Free The Four Horsemen 4 - Death by T.A. Chase Page B

name, but he did a search of Paris newspapers and found several articles pertaining to the disappearance of hotel heir Pierre Fortescue from his hotel room two days ago. Death frowned. How had they determined Death took him two days ago? Impressive, considering no one had checked on Pierre for several days before Death came for him, or at least, that’s what Pierre seemed to believe.
Pierre’s step-father, Jameson Robertson, offered a reward for any information on the whereabouts of his step-son. Death snorted softly and rolled his eyes. If the man had been so concerned, maybe he should have done more to ensure Pierre stayed off the drugs. Death read more articles and scanned several pages of images of Pierre at all the jet-set hot-spots around the world.
He noticed the same older blond man in many of the pictures. In some, it seemed like Pierre and he were together. In others, the man stood with his arm around a woman while Pierre gazed on with longing in his eyes. Pierre wore his heart on his sleeve about the man, yet Death had a feeling the older man was simply playing Pierre, probably using the younger man for his money and connections.
He found an announcement for the wedding of Lars Holden and some woman set for a week or two earlier. Could this be the catalyst for Pierre’s drug binge? It certainly looked like Pierre wasn’t expecting Lars to marry a woman and leave him high and dry in Paris, the city for lovers.
Death shook his head and closed the browser. After standing, he wandered over to the windows and stared out at the Paris skyline. The sun peeked over the buildings, flooding the streets with early morning sunshine. Death smiled, remembering how he’d loved to ride in the parks as the fog burned off the grass. So many sunrises met in such a manner, and he’d never realised how much he’d taken them for granted until he couldn’t do it anymore.
Well, he had ridden for a while after becoming the Pale Rider, but slowly, as more buildings were built and there were fewer parks to ride in, he’d stopped. He watched as the France he knew tore itself apart during the Revolution, and so many of his peers ended up being escorted to the gates. He never stuck around to find out where they were being sentenced to, because he knew where he’d send them.
“You judge them so harshly, simply because you were never one of them. If you had grown up with money and a title, you would have been just like them.”
Death shook his head. No, he didn’t believe that. He’d never understood the inherent belief those in the upper levels of society had in their own supremacy over those less fortunate than them. He’d seen it while living in India and China before he came home to launch Emilia into society. The ones with money always seemed to believe God meant for them to have it, and there had to be something wrong with those who didn’t have any or they’d be rich as well.
“Yet not all rich people were terrible human beings. Some of them were nice, like the man your sister married. He loved her, even though she wasn’t a virgin.”
“He loved her money,” Death muttered, not wanting to admit Oliver’s voice was right.
“Shame on you, Gatian. You know he loved her, or you would never have let her marry him, even if it meant breaking the rules and contacting her to inform her you didn’t approve.”
“She would have freaked out,” Death pointed out. “Considering I was supposed to be dead. I’ve always wondered if they found my body or if I was pulled through whatever wormhole the Horsemen come through, body and all.”
The silence in his head told him Oliver had nothing to say. The feeling of being watched made him turn, and he spotted Pierre propped up in the doorway. The glazed eyes and vague smile told him Pierre had managed to shoot up.
Pierre grinned at him. “Wow, man. You managed to score some top-notch shit. It must have cost you a good penny.”
Somehow Death doubted Day paid for the stuff. He didn’t