Infinity Book 3

Soren

We were on our honeymoon for a month. Thirty-one days. It felt like a week.

The days flowed into each other without any borders, every moment wrapped up in celebrating our love. Celebrating our bodies, wrapped around each other.

I don’t know how Zayla feels about being back in Purgatory. We really haven’t had time to discuss it.

“Damn it, Soren! Pay attention!”

We’ve been home for a week, and it feels like a month.

I look across the conference table at Devlin, standing in front of the row of windows. Just beyond, I can see the whiteness of Purgatory, like a fog blurring all features of the landscape.

“Look, I know you’re scrambling to catch up, but Zayla—” Devlin’s words break off abruptly when he sees the scowl on my face.

“What. About. Zayla?”

Devlin can be a real asshat sometimes. On his best days he’s obnoxious. On his worst…

I lean forward and bang my fist on the table in anger.

“She’s fucking doing the best she can! Give her a fucking break!”

“Her best isn’t good enough,” Craven breaks in. He and Zennen exchange a look that means they’re all in this together.

“Look, Soren,” my third brother takes up the attack. “We all know that she comes from a different world than us. But she chose to come here, to take this job on, just so that you two could be together.”

Devlin returns to the table and sinks into his chair at the head. “She chose this life, and she has a job to do. And if she doesn’t get with the fucking program—”

My brothers are right.

Zayla is definitely causing problems.

I hope it’s just the pregnancy messing with her head, giving her qualms about doing her job. Because if it continues and she can’t do what has to be done…

Well, the future isn’t very promising for us as a couple.

“Look,” Zennen says, “we’re willing to give her a few more days. We’ll continue to hold back on doing our jobs, to give Zayla time to adjust.”

“Yeah,” Craven picks up the conversation. “But she’s got to get with the program. Things can’t go on this way.”

“What are you going to do if she can’t get over her ‘problem,’ can’t bring herself—”

Devlin breaks in. “Then you have to end it. You can’t stay mated. Baby or no.”

Somehow, I manage to contain my rage until my brothers leave the conference room, but then all hell breaks loose.

I grab my chair and smash it against Devlin’s, then Craven’s and Zennen’s. Flip the table over and throw it against the windows, shattering them in a rain of glass shards.

By the time I’m finished smashing the furniture through the windows, I feel a little better.

But it would have been a lot fucking easier—and neater—if Devlin would just let me see Gracie.

My niece has the power to calm my rages. Her touch relieves all of my anger.

But she’s not here.

Devlin sent her and Ana to the beach for a few days. He knew I would want Gracie to heal me.

He’s afraid I might hurt his little girl, even though I love her as much as…

As much as I love my own unborn child.

It’s hard to reconcile how protective Devlin is of his daughter, when he’s such a fucking dick to everyone else.

I guess it comes from who he is. Devlin is one of hell’s Four Horsemen, as we all are.

Devlin is the Horseman of War.

Craven is the Horseman of Famine.

Zennen is the Horseman of Pestilence.

And I, of course, am Death, the reaper of Supernatural souls.

We’re supposed to work together to maintain the balance of life and death. But my brothers have taken a break, so that the souls on the Fates’ list didn’t pile up too badly while we were gone.

And now, with Zayla new to her job, they’re still on a break.

No war, so the dying soldiers don’t overwhelm my wife.

No pestilence, so that disease doesn’t run rampant until Zayla is on her game.

No famine…especially no famine.

Famine is worse for the children.

And Zayla…

Honestly, Zayla has flat-out refused to reap children’s souls.

It’s tough, reaping a kid. But it has to be done, to maintain the natural order. Zayla is softhearted, and now that she’s pregnant it’s even harder.

I know it won’t be long until my Dad finds out what she’s been doing.

Not doing.

And then the shit’s going to hit the fan, for sure.

I need to figure out how to help Zayla fucking get through this. How to get over her feelings.

Otherwise, when my brothers get back to work—as they will any day now—the numbers of injured, sick, and starving kids who need to move on to Heaven will reach critical mass.

Zayla needs to come to terms with this part of her job.

But how the hell does she do it?