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.
For all my long-standing bitterness towards Pestilence, he’s the horseman who’s been the most compassionate towards me.
“It’ll be okay,” he promises. “I have three children, War has four, and Famine is overly protective of defenseless things,” he says. “Between the three of us, Ben will be safe, cared for, and—” He pulls away to look me in the eyes, “we really will love him as our own. You are family now, Lazarus.”
I choke up at that. My whole life revolved around my family, and how I’ve missed that sense of belonging. Pestilence is offering me something that I thought I’d lost forever. I don’t have words for how that makes me feel.
“I took your parents from you, Lazarus,” Pestilence continues, holding my gaze. “I can’t give their lives back to you, but I can give you this. You understand?”
Tears prick my eyes. I nod, my throat working.
“Thank you—Victor,” I say, my voice hoarse.
The horseman’s eyebrows rise for a moment, and then he gives me a genuine smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and lights up his entire face.
I hold Ben close. My son clings to me, eyeing the three very scary-looking men with open suspicion.
Oh God, I don’t want to do this.
“I love you, Ben,” I whisper, rubbing his small back. I hold him for a long minute.
I’m going to see you again soon, I tell myself. This won’t all be for nothing.
War comes over to us, crouching a little so that he can be eye-to-eye with Ben. My son glares at the horseman, his hands digging tighter into my clothes.
This is going really well.
“Ah, look at that ferocity. Pestilence and Famine don’t have half as much.” He points at Ben. “You have the trappings of a future general about you,” he says, and the way he says it makes me think this is supposed to be a compliment.
I grab the backpack filled with Ben’s things, and I hand it over to the horsemen. Pestilence steps forward to take it.
War reaches out for the boy, but Ben rears back a little.
“Move away brother,” Famine says, strolling over, carrying one of those pale purple flowers, “the kid has actual taste.”