Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,16

believe me? An hour ago I wouldn’t have believed me.

So what if they believe you’re a fool? Tell them and let them make up their own minds.

I get to my feet and begin to walk away, my steps hurried.

But then … then I stop. I cast an unsure glance over my shoulder.

That man—supernatural or not—is too hurt to harm anyone. And judging by his wounds, he’s not the great monster the stories made him out to be.

Someone did that to him. Someone who was surely a human.

I stare at his crumpled form for a little longer.

Help. He’d used his only breath to ask for my help.

The thought makes my chest tighten.

If this truly is the horseman … I really should just walk away.

Still, I linger there, in the middle of the road, my eyes fixed on him.

I think about my aunt, who hardly gives two shits about me. If I were lying in a ditch, I’m not sure she’d save me.

I know what it’s like to not be wanted.

And if I were the one hurt and begging for help, I’d want someone to care. Even a stranger.

I swallow.

Fuck, I’m going to do this.

Rain pelts my skin as I grab the horseman under the armpits, my gaze moving up and down the muddy road. There’s no one on this backcountry trail. No one but me and the horseman But someone will come, it’s just a matter of time.

One painstaking step at a time, I drag the horseman off the road and towards an abandoned house that I used to play inside when I was a kid. Even missing appendages, he weighs more than a freaking cow—and a fat cow at that.

The whole time, my heart pounds. Whoever did this to him really could still be out there.

And they’re probably looking for him.

Once I’m inside the building, my legs buckle, and I fall, the horseman collapsing on top of me.

For several seconds I lay beneath his bloody body, struggling to breathe. Of course this is how I would meet my end—suffocating to death under the weight of this gargantuan man. Only I would get myself into this stupid situation.

Can’t believe I’m actually trying to save a fucking horseman of the apocalypse.

Grunting, I push the man off of me, letting his body roll to the side.

I glance at the horseman’s twisted form, frowning.

Maybe save is the wrong word. The man seems pretty dead. And yet still I’m here, hanging out with his body when I should be getting home.

This is why my Aunt Maria doesn’t like me. I can hear her even now. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.

At the thought of her, I remember the basket of fruit I left back on the road. If I’m not only late getting home but I somehow also manage to lose both the fruit and her basket, she’s definitely going to disown my curious ass.

I drag myself back outside into the pouring rain and fetch the stupid basket, half hoping that the horseman is somehow gone when I return to the abandoned building.

But of course he’s not. He still lays in the bloody, dripping heap where I left him.

It’s not too late to walk away—or to tell someone about him.

Of course, I’m not going to.

Too sentimental, my cousins call me.

I set the basket aside and crouch near the horseman. My muscles still tremble from my earlier exertion, but I force myself to lay the horseman out, trying to situate him in as comfortable a position as possible. The whole time I grimace at the cold feel of his body.

He has to be dead.

But the last time I thought that, he wasn’t, and that’s enough to keep me inside this damn house.

So I sit across the room from him as the rain pelts against the leaky roof, ignoring my rising anxiety that I’m not home and will most definitely get a beating for it. I close my eyes and lean my head back against a nearby wall.

I think I might’ve nodded off because when I blink open my eyes it’s nearly dark outside.

On the other side of the room, I hear a terrifying, keening sound. My eyes cut to the source, and there’s the horseman, his weird glowing tattoos giving the house an eerie green glow. In the fading light, I can see the whites of his eyes. He looks confused and frightened.

He is alive after all.

I haven’t exactly thought through what I’m doing when I get up and move over to him, kneeling at his