“How are you. . .” I trail off and gesture up and down his body with my free hand. “So together?”

With a smirk, he laughs. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

I groan and push on his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “That’s not what I mean. You were dead. . . and now, you’re here, fully functioning. Even with my necromantic powers, you being this aware is not normal.”

“Normal is rather boring, don’t you think?”

“Stop doing that,” I say with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not joking, Brayden. I don’t understand, and I want you to explain it to me.” I want answers, especially since I apparently stole him from Death. Considering what I did with the spirits earlier, using his power to make them disappear, I’m definitely making my way to the top of his shit list.

His blue eyes darken, and he glances away. “I’d have to understand to do that, and if I’m honest, I’m not sure I do.”

Searching his face, I blow out a breath. “Start with explaining what you were.”

“Growing up, I used to have nightmares of a creature wearing a black robe and carrying a scythe. My parents and brother wrote it off, telling me I shouldn’t watch scary movies before bed. The thing is. . . no matter where I slept, what I did before bed, or how much I tried to manifest positive images before I fell asleep, he always returned. Even after Draco and I were attacked at a party in the woods and brought to Bad Moon Academy, the darkness followed me. When Jinx tried to take me, it didn’t work. She killed me, but she couldn’t consume my soul or my wolf because another had already laid their claim.”

“Death,” I whisper, moving my hand from his chest and placing it on mine.

He nods. “You stole from a Horseman. I don’t think he’ll take kindly to that.”

Trying to process what he said, my eyes widen and my mouth pops open, stuck on a word which won’t quite come out.

A Horseman?Joan asks.

She’s learned a little bit about the world from me, but the apocalypse isn’t something that’s come up in our regular conversations and thoughts. I pull up some of my memories of the Four Horsemen, trying to explain what he means.

She whistles.You done fucked up.

I didn’t mean to!

Brayden’s thumb brushes over my cheek, and I lean into the touch.

“I thought there were four? They symbolize the apocalypse.”

“They do, but Death is not stagnant while he waits for the great battle. He’s always been the reaper of souls; he’s only biding his time until his brother’s rise to the call of the Underworld.”

The lights flicker, distracting me from the conversation. I glance around, searching for Jinx who is probably the cause, but she doesn’t appear.

Stepping away and sighing, he turns the oven off. “I know what happened earlier was traumatic, but we have much bigger problems than Jinx. She’s just a demon spirit.”

Just a demon spirit, he says. Then again, if what he told me about Death is true, I’ve probably pissed off an even stronger demon. A Horseman. More than simply Death then. Jinx is nothing compared to him. Which means we’ll have to find a way to get rid of her sooner rather than later.

“Food’s ready.”

I grab a few spatulas, waiting for him to grab the pan out of the oven with his hot pads. When our gazes meet, his face ripples with warring emotions: happiness and sadness.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say.

“I hope so, Little Red. Otherwise, I’m not sure we’ll make it out of this alive.”