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 still 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?”