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.”
The Reaper stops in front of us and stares down at the flower in his hand. After a moment, he holds it out to Ben.
Ben eyes Famine skeptically, then looks at the rose as though this is some sort of trick. Reluctantly, my son reaches for the flower.
Before he can grab it, Famine pulls it back just a little. “This is not actually yours,” the horseman clarifies, because he’s a natural-born dick, “but the woman it does belong to would want you to have it.”
He extends the flower out once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation on Ben’s part. He reaches out and grabs the thing, which, I notice, has been carefully de-thorned.
Once the flower is in Ben’s grasp, he makes quick work of ripping the petals apart.
Famine grimaces. “Humans are such heathens—even the miniature ones.”
“You’re just bitter Ana doesn’t want to be saddled with yours,” War says, thumping him on the back as he turns to his horse.
The Reaper glares after him but says nothing. After a moment, his attention returns to Ben, who has plucked most of the petals off the rose.
Famine handily takes Ben from my arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Say bye to Lazarus,” the horseman says, but Ben couldn’t care less at the moment. His attention is still fixed on the sad remains of the rose.
My arms feel empty, and everything in me is screaming at the thought of separation.
“I love you, Ben,” I say, again, my voice breaking.
This is the biggest trust-fall into the universe.
As Famine walks off with Ben, I hear him say, “I can make you more flowers, but if you shit on me, deal’s off.”
“Famine,” Pestilence snaps after him.
“Relax, Grandpa,” Famine calls out over his shoulder, “Ben’s going to wait until he’s on your horse before he does anything funny.”