Just as I’m about to grab the handle, the door opens. Pestilence’s eyes meet mine for a split second, then they drop to Ben.
“I need your help,” I rush out.
Before he can respond, I push my way into the dilapidated house. War is in the kitchen, fists on the laminate countertop, leaning over what looks like a map.
“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.