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.