“Is this about your son?” Pestilence asks behind me.
War glances up. “Lazarus!” he calls. “I didn’t realize you were pregnant the last we met.” When his eyes fall to my listless son, his jovial mood seeps away.
“I wasn’t pregnant,” I say, “but he’s my son all the same.” I turn my attention to Pestilence. “The antibiotics didn’t help. He’s … he’s dying.” My voice wavers, and I have to stop and draw in a stabilizing breath, even as a tear slips out. “Death intends to take him tonight unless—”
“Unless he can be healed,” Pestilence finishes for me, understanding flooding his eyes. He frowns, his gaze remorseful. “I can’t help you,” he says. “Nor can War. It’s true that we’ve kept some of our former powers, but,” He shakes his head, “I no longer have the power to reverse such sickness.”
“But you once did?” I press, holding my breath.
Pestilence stares at me for a moment, then nods his head. “We all have the ability to harm and heal …”
He hasn’t even finished speaking when I swivel around, searching the house for the one horseman who isn’t mortal. The one who can, perhaps, help.
My gaze lands on him lounging back against the wall, a brow arched as he coaxes a sapling in front of him to rise from the splintered floorboards, the tree unfurling before my eyes.
“Famine,” I breathe.
“No.”
I’m too desperate to be so easily discouraged. I stride up to the horseman, Ben in my arms, and gaze down at the pitiless Reaper.
“Death’s going to take my son from me,” I say. My body trembles as I speak.
“And?” Famine says, unbothered.
“Help me,” I plead. “Save his life.”
The horseman leans his head back against the wall. “Like I said—no.”
War mutters behind us, “And to think you tried to give up your purpose for humanity.”
The Reaper’s attention shifts over my shoulder, and I know he’s getting ready to say something scathing.
I kneel in front of Famine so that we’re at eye-level. There’s only one thought filling my head.
Save my son.
I stare deeply into the horseman’s green eyes until they slide back from War and focus on me again. This is not a man who has much empathy—not for me or my son anyway. But that doesn’t mean I can’t persuade him. I just need to figure out what he wants.
“I will do anything,” I vow. “Anything.”
God help me, but there is nothing I won’t do.
The Reaper’s gaze narrows. After a moment, his eyes—reluctantly—dip to my son, who has fallen back asleep.
He shakes his head. “He is too far gone.”
No.
Horror fills me.
No.
No. I refuse to believe it.
I won’t.
“You have torn down cities, crushed thousands in an instant,” I say, my voice strong. “Your power is nearly limitless. Do not tell me you are suddenly too weak to help one tiny baby.”
Famine’s jaw tightens. “Taunting me will get you nowhere, mortal.”
“Please,” I say slowly. “Death—that insufferable brother of yours—cannot be the only horseman with the ability to heal.”
The Reaper stares at me with those reptilian eyes of his, and I cannot tell what is going on behind that face of his.
“I will do anything you want,” I swear again.
I’m not scared anymore. Just resolute.
“Anything?” War says from behind me.
I turn to face him just as he walks over.
“Anything.”
War stares down at me, his own dark eyes full of machinations. “Seduce Death.”
My gaze widens, my heart tripping over itself.
“War,” Pestilence cautions, entering the room behind us.
War’s gaze remains locked on mine. “She said anything.”
My mind flashes to the naked desire I’ve seen in Thanatos’s eyes.
Come with me, Lazarus. Let me know what it is like to hold you instead of fighting you.
I clench my jaw, caught between dread and a twisted sort of desire I’ve harbored for the horseman for far too long.
I don’t have time to argue.
“Done,” I say, feeling only a little ill at ease.
I’ll worry about the implications of this later.
The corner of War’s mouth curls just slightly.
“I didn’t agree to this,” Famine protests.
War’s gaze goes to the Reaper. “Do it, brother.”
Famine grimaces. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.
His eyes cut to me, and I can see how much the Reaper dislikes me—or maybe it’s simply what I represent. But when his attention drops to Ben, his gaze softens.
Without asking, Famine reaches out and takes my son from me. He cradles Ben in his arms, and something sad and vulnerable peeks out from the back of the horseman’s eyes as he stares down at my son.
The Reaper places a hand on the side of Ben’s face. Taking a deep breath, his eyelids close.
No one in the room moves. I can sense Pestilence and War nearby, but they might as well be on another continent. All I have eyes for are Famine and Ben.
Nothing happens.
The seconds slip by, then it’s a minute. Then that minute bleeds into two, then four … longer and longer it goes, and no one speaks, no one moves. And yet the air is thick with—I would call it magic, except that makes it sound like whatever is happening is some sort of cheap trick. This is life and death. This is being born from clay and returning to the earth and the world turning and shifting. It feels like I am surrounded by the essence of everything.
The longer I wait, the more unsure I suddenly become. Shouldn’t it be faster? Death snaps his fingers and cities fall. Why is one act of creation—if you can even call it that—so much more drawn out?
But then—
Ben’s breathing seems stronger and his pallor looks healthier. He moves a little, and it doesn’t look weak or painful.
I’ve seen atrocities, I’ve seen despair and unimaginable horror.
I’ve never seen something as miraculous as this.
I’m choking on my own breath, on all my terror and despair and everything else that has beaten me down. And then it’s exiting my body.
Famine opens his eyes, and for a moment, as he gazes down at Ben, the horseman gives him a brief smile.
A sob slips from my lips.
The Reaper’s eyes reluctantly move to mine. “He’s healed.”
Chapter 36
Orange, Texas
July, Year 27 of the Horsemen
Healed.
Tears are slipping from my eyes as I take Ben from Famine. My son starts to cry again, and I shudder out a breath. He was too weak before to cry. As soon as he’s settled in my arms, his cries die down a bit.
I kiss and hug him until Ben is officially annoyed. He’s alive. Alive and healthy when he’d been marked for death. I can hardly fathom it.
War comes over with a canteen and offers it to me. “For your son,” he says, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “He looks thirsty.”
Grateful, I take the canteen from War and bring it to Ben’s lips. He drinks the water down as fast as he possibly can, choking—then crying a little—before drinking some more.
Pestilence quietly hands me a slice of bread and some raspberries, which are also presumably to give to Ben.
My emotions are a mess. These men who came to Earth to destroy humans saved my son, and now they’re nurturing him.
“Thank you,” I say softly, meeting each rider’s gaze as Ben takes the bread with shaky hands and begins devouring it. My eyes fall on Famine, who glances away, his jaw clenching.
“Thank you,” I say to him in particular. I reach out and touch his hand, only for him to withdraw it.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he says hotly, his eyes flashing.
“I don’t care, I’m st
ill grateful.”
He gets up and, muttering something under his breath about insufferable humans, stalks away.
“Don’t mind him,” War says. “He’s starting to care for humanity despite himself, and he’s pissy about it.”
I nod absently, still holding onto Ben as the little guy devours the food Pestilence gave him. It’s quiet in the room around me, and though a million things should be crowding my mind, it’s oddly empty.
“Your son will have to come with us,” Pestilence finally says, shattering the silence.
My blood runs cold.
“What?” I must’ve misheard him.
Pestilence steps in close. “The only person besides us that Death won’t outright kill is you. Your son is not included on that list.”
“I can keep my son safe,” I protest.
“Only if you continue running. But you’re not going to be running anymore,” Pestilence says slowly, his gaze heavy with meaning.
My own gaze moves to War.
Seduce Death.
I can’t seem to catch my breath around the thought.
“This wasn’t part of the exchange,” I accuse.
“Death is a man of honor and duty,” War says, “and his duty is death. If he sees your son, he will release him from his body, because he must.”
I begin to tremble with every word War speaks because I can hear the truth in them.
“If you truly care for this boy of yours,” the horseman continues, “you won’t risk it—”
“Don’t,” I warn, and there’s violence in my voice. “Don’t you dare leverage my love.”
War folds his massive arms. “I am a father—as is Pestilence. We know how to take care of our young. We will take care of yours as if it were our own. That I vow to you.”
I have to keep swallowing down the emotion that rises within me. Or maybe it’s bile. I feel as though I’m going to hurl.
“But I just got him back,” I whisper while Ben blissfully eats the food, unaware that we’re discussing his future.
“We all have families,” Pestilence says, stepping in. “Families who we’ve had to separate ourselves from. Believe me when I say we understand your pain and your hesitation.”
War cuts in. “Our wives and children are staying together at Pestilence and Sara’s home on Vancouver Island. It’s far enough from Thanatos that he cannot so easily reach them.”
“We will take your son to our families,” Pestilence says smoothly, “and I vow on my life and honor, your boy—”
“Ben,” I say. “His name is Ben.” It’s a dagger to the chest, giving up my son’s name, because I know it means I’m already accepting this on some level.
Pestilence smiles, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. “—Ben will be cared for and loved until you can return to him. And you will return to him, Lazarus—this isn’t forever.”
I breathe in and out through my nose. All I want for Ben is to survive—it was the entire reason behind us heading to the coast in the first place—to board a boat and get as far away from Thanatos as possible. And now these horsemen are offering up a similar escape—it just happens to be one that doesn’t include me.
The Reaper re-enters the room then, passing by as he heads over to the kitchen.
“I vow the same thing,” War adds, drawing my attention back to the horsemen in front of me. “Your son will be protected and cherished by me and my family as well. My daughters will relish having another child to play with—just don’t be surprised if, when you return, your boy knows Hebrew and Arabic.”
“And Portuguese,” Famine calls out from the kitchen, as though he’s been a part of this conversation the entire time. His voice sounds somewhat bitter, like he hates that he wants to be included in this conversation.
I glance down at Ben, who is fiddling with War’s canteen. A frown pulls the edges of my lips down. “So you three will take my son, and then what? Head off to Canada with him?”
Pestilence inclines his head.
All while I will be … with Death. I try not to focus on the mixed emotions that churns up.
“When will I be able to return to Ben?” I say.
“Once you have fulfilled your side of the deal,” War says, his voice deep and solemn.
My gaze bounces between him and Pestilence. “How will—” I don’t even want to say the word. “How will seducing Death help anything?”
War smirks at me, a humorous gleam in his eyes. “What do you think has stopped each one of us from destroying your world?”
My gaze moves to Famine, who’s pouring himself a cup of coffee that someone brewed, glaring at the cup the entire time. Hard to believe anyone would give that asshole the time of day for anything, let alone love. Immediately, I feel guilty for having the thought, considering he just saved my son—albeit, reluctantly.
My attention returns to War. “You can’t be serious.” This is actually their plan? They’re placing the fate of their families and the world at large in my hands—or rather, certain other parts of my anatomy?
“Come now, tootsie,” Famine calls out, “don’t tell me you doubt your ability to fuck a man into seeing reason.”
“Famine,” Pestilence snaps, scowling.
I glare at the Reaper, but that only seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk.
“Well,” Famine says to Pestilence, sauntering over, his coffee in hand, “the other option is that the three of us brothers band together and destroy Death, but seeing how decrepit you and War have become, I have my doubts about that plan.”
As do I. After all, I saw firsthand just how easily Death dealt with Famine, and he’s the only one of these three who’s immortal.
Famine brings the cup of coffee to his lips. “Besides,” he continues, lowering his mug, “I want to see that righteous asshole fall for the exact same thing that the rest of us have.”
“So it’s agreed then?” Pestilence says, staring intently at me.
I swallow, glancing down at Ben once more. I hate this. I hate this so much. Now that Ben is alive and well, I want to go back on my word.
Ben won’t ever truly be safe until Death is stopped. And that won’t happen unless I stop him. That’s always been my deepest truth.
My purpose settles over my shoulders like a cloak. I’m used to the idea of stopping Thanatos. Only now, I’ll have to use different, more carnal weapons.
Desire curls through me, and I’m unnerved by it. I’ve never dared to give into the guilty, forbidden feelings I’ve had for Death—not even when he captured me.
But now I’m being asked to, and I’m terrified that once I do, there will be no coming back from it.
“Fine,” I say hoarsely. “I agree to it.” Like I ever really had the choice.
Still, I see Pestilence relax a little.
“But,” I add, turning my attention to Famine, “I need you to vow that you’ll keep him safe.” He’s the horseman that I trust the least.
Famine’s flinty eyes stare back at me. After a moment, they dip to my son. Once more, they seem to begrudgingly soften at the sight of the boy. The Reaper’s jaw tightens.
His attention returns to me, his gaze fierce, “I vow it.” And for whatever reason, Famine’s oath to protect my son sounds the most genuine of all.
I take a deep breath, and looking from man to man, I finally nod. “Alright. Let’s do this.”
I take Ben back home and I feed and change him and gather together his things as quickly as I can. I pack food and bottles, and all the money I have saved up. I pack his bear and the sketch of him and his parents. After a moment’s hesitation, I remove my mother’s ring from my finger. It’s the only item I still have from my life before Death, and it’s my most cherished possession, so it’s fitting I send it with my son as a reminder of how much I love him.
I take a bit of twine and slide the ring on it, then tie it tightly to the neck of his teddy bear. Hopefully by the time I return to Ben, he’ll still be too young to
notice or care about the ring’s existence. I can’t bear the alternative. Of years passing. The weight of that possibility sits like an anvil on my chest.
It won’t be that long. That’s my vow.
Just as I tuck the bear into the bag, I feel a prickling sensation between my shoulder blades.
I turn to the window, and my eyes scour the street and the apartments across the way. Other than a few kids throwing a football back and forth, I see no one. But dogs are baying in the distance, and I swear that unnerving silence lingers beneath that and the children’s laughter.
Death may have left my side, but I’m under no illusion that the horseman has gone far, not when he has so successfully cornered me.
Drawing in a shuddering breath, I pack the last of Ben’s things. After I finish, I pause, staring at my son, who’s placing a spare cloth diaper on his head, then turning to me and laughing, as though it’s some shared joke between the two of us. It’s as though he was never sick at all.
Now, all I want to do is linger here as long as possible and bask in my son’s presence. But every moment that passes brings me closer to my reunion with Death. And that’s a meeting Ben must miss.
“Ben,” I call.
He turns towards me again and gives me that same cheesy smile.
I go over to him and pick him up. Immediately he wants back down, but I hold him fast. I don’t know the next time I’ll get this.
“I love you,” I say.
Still holding him, I grab the backpack I just packed and, slinging it over my shoulder, I head over to my bike. I drop my bag into the front basket and strap my son into his seat. Then wheeling him and the bike outside, I settle myself into my own seat and ride back over to the weathered farmhouse and the horsemen waiting for me.
When I return to the ranch house, the three brothers are already out in the front yard with their steeds. War and Pestilence are securing items in their horses’ saddlebags while Famine lounges amongst the overgrown grass, indolently watching as a rose bush forms in front of him. Soft, dusky purple flowers bloom before my eyes.
Pestilence steps away from his horse when he sees me. He heads over as I unbuckle Ben, and no sooner have I pulled my son into my arms than the horseman sweeps us both into a welcoming hug. I wasn’t expecting a hug, but I needed one. I cling to his warm embrace.
Death (The Four Horsemen Book 4) Page 17