There is an inherent magic to life, a magic that not even the afterlife can give. That’s why creation exists at all, and it’s why humans, who balance on the edge of good and evil, are as they are.
I still have my secrets—the quiet conversations with the Universe. I am still Her intermediary, even if I relinquished my powers. I won’t ever be fully human. My memories stretch farther back than anyone—even my brothers—can remember. I will always be the pause between sentences, the silence that follows the end of a story. I fit between things, and no amount of mortality can erase that.
Time here doesn’t work as it did before I was made into a man. It’s blindingly fast, and achingly slow.
But eventually it does come to a close.
My brothers and their wives go. I don’t choose the day; I cannot any longer. That aspect of my power is gone. And one awful day, Lazarus goes too, and none of my knowledge of the afterlife does anything to dull the unbearable agony of her passing. I feel her soul slip away, I see its flight up into the heavens, and this time, though a part of my essence does lead her there, it’s not this part of me—the conscious, mortal man I’ve become.
And then she’s gone.
And somehow, I still live, though by all rights, the part of me that matters has left. For a handful of years I exist without her, and I understand finally, truly, Lazarus’s words about loss.
Then, there comes a day when I feel my own death upon me, and I want to laugh that I have somehow come full circle—I am both Death and the dying.
My children and grandchildren gather around me—and those of my brothers’ flesh as well. Ben, who’s an old man himself, holds my hand as I draw my final breaths.
Between one thought and the next, I slip away. There is no ferryman to lead me on, but it doesn’t matter. I know the way. I have memorized it over the eons.
There, standing at the threshold of the afterlife, are my brothers, their wives—
And Lazarus, my sweet Lazarus.
She opens her arms, and I walk into them.
And once again I am home.
The End
Author’s Note
Trying not to cry. Trying not to cry.
Phew.
Alright. I think I managed it.
The end of a series is a magical, gut-wrenching experience, and Death is no exception. While I’m so thrilled to finally close out this final story in The Four Horsemen series, it hurts to part with a world and characters I have grown to love and care about.
I came up with this idea back in 2015 and decided to start writing Pestilence in 2017, when that first horseman started whispering in my ear. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I had his story down on paper. And that’s how the Four Horsemen shoved their way onto my computer. They’ve been my world for the last four years and this is truly a parting.
I am forever grateful to those of you who took a chance on these books and stuck with the series all the way until the bittersweet end. You all humble me.
For the readers wondering if there will be any other books after this one in The Four Horsemen series, I’m sorry to say that this is it. I do have plenty of outtakes from the book, and if you twist my arm hard enough, I will share them on my website and in my newsletter.
As far as future projects go, I have two separate series in the works—one paranormal, one fantasy, both heavy on the romance. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure which of these two series I’ll officially be releasing next, （I’m sort of just rolling with whatever the Muse throws at me） but I intend to release the first book in one of these series in 2022, so I hope you’ll stick around for it!
In the meantime, don’t be a stranger! You can find me on Facebook and Instagram, Twitter and Goodreads, and we can gush about our favorite reads! Until then— Happy reading!
Laura