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I nearly cry, taking a grateful seat. It’s been so long since another human being treated me with any kind of genuine care. I’d almost forgotten that people did this.

The old man limps his way to the other side of the kitchen, where Ruth is grabbing mugs.

“Sit, love, let me do this,” he says.

She guffaws. “You’re the one who needs to sit,” she says. “That knee is going to give you trouble tonight.”

“Bah! Everything gives me trouble these days.” He glances my way and winks at me, the gesture causing Pestilence to look between the two of us.

Ruth grabs a spatula and swats at her husband, who’s now attempting to bodily move her. “I’ve got this. Now stop feeling me up in front of our guests and go sit down.”

The man grumbles, saying louder, “I’ll take my affection where I can get it.”

His wife throws him a warm look over her shoulder as he takes a seat across from us.

The horseman watches the entire exchange with the utmost fascination.

“I’m Rob, and that’s Ruth,” the old man says, settling into his chair as he makes introductions.

Pestilence inclines his head. “I am Pestilence, and this is Sara,” he says, gesturing to me.

“Pestilence,” Rob repeats, his eyes bright with awe. Remembering himself, he turns to me and nods. “And Sara. Pleasure to meet you both.”

I glance between everyone, nearly as shaken as the horseman is. We’ve come to expect a certain dialogue between us and our hosts, and this one has veered wildly off script.

“Is it, though?” Pestilence asks, assessing the man. “A pleasure to meet us, that is?”

“Well, of course it is!” Rob says, slapping his palm against the tabletop for emphasis. “How often does one of the Four Horsemen arrive on your doorstep?”

Ruth shuffles over with several steaming cups of tea, setting them down in front of each of us.

“Thank you,” I murmur when she hands me a mug.

Pestilence frowns at his own drink, his nostrils flaring at the smell.

Rob pats Ruth’s side as she takes a seat next to him. “Thank you for the tea.” His gaze lingers on her, and it’s an intimate enough look that I avert my eyes.

Pushing his drink away, Pestilence leans back in his seat, his expression caught somewhere between troubled and hopeful. “Most mortals do not take kindly to my presence.”

“Does it look like I fear death?” Rob asks.

The horseman’s eyes narrow shrewdly.

“I’m old, my body hurts, and my wits are half-gone.” He glances at Ruth. “Our children have grown up and left us, and now their children are nearly full grown. If the end has come, well, I’m happy to be leaving it alongside my wife.”

A wrinkle mars Pestilence’s brow. “It is not a good death,” he admits.

I don’t know why he’s even bothering to make himself look bad. These peoplewantto like him.

“Far better than losing your mind, memory by memory,” Ruth says. She shudders. “That’s how my own mother went. It’s awful enough to lose someone, but to watch death take them piece by piece until there is nothing left but a husk,” She shakes her head. “No, there are far worse ways to go than plague.”

“We mean to stay here for several days,” Pestilence says. “Sara will need a bed, and food, and water.”

Again, Pestilence seems to want to aggravate the elderly couple. His efforts, however, seem to be in vain. When their eyes move to me, their expressions are kind.

“That’s not a problem,” Rob responds. “As I said,mi casa es su casa.”

I take in Pestilence’s glowering profile when it hits me. No one’s ever justlikedhim before. Not until now. He doesn’t trust Ruth or Rob, because why should he? PeoplehatePestilence, the spreader of plague.