Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,44
them.” Ugh. “I meant, why did you send them—”
“I know what you meant,” Famine says, cutting me off.
Oh. I think that was horseman humor.
“They’re going to prepare the next city for my arrival.”
Just like my city was prepared. The thought sends a wave of apprehension through me.
“And,” he adds, “to answer your question from earlier, no I didn’t rape the girl you were worried about. I would never do such a thing.” He says this with a conviction normally reserved for people who have been victims themselves.
Could mighty Famine have been abused? It’s not too far fetched, considering all the other torture he must’ve endured.
“Then why would you send her to your room?”
The Reaper doesn’t answer.
I try again. “Is she alive?” I ask.
“Why does it matter to you?” he says.
Because she’s young and scared and I recognize bits of myself in her.
“It just does,” I say.
After a moment, Famine exhales. “She’s alive. For now.”
As we leave Colombo, people—living, breathing people—peer out from their houses. Somewhere in the distance I hear a child laugh.
I take them in, confused. Famine doesn’t leave cities intact.
Behind me, the horseman begins to whistle.
What do you have planned, Famine?
Then I hear a distant, buzzing noise at our backs.
I glance over my shoulder, and on the horizon, the sky is dark, and I swear it seems to be getting darker by the second.
“What … what is that noise?” I ask, facing forward. It sets my teeth on edge.
He whispers in my ear. “Don’t you know, though?”
I strain to listen. The noise is getting louder and louder, even as the sky continues to darken. It’s not until a large bug whacks into my arm that I start to understand.
I brush the creature off, but then another three hit me in quick succession. I glance behind us again and I realize the dark sky is moving.
That bone-chilling sound is the collective buzz of millions of wingbeats.
It’s famine in its truest form.
My eyes meet the Reaper’s.
“Thus far, you seem to find my methods of killing distasteful,” he says, “so I thought I’d try my hand at a more … biblical approach.
“It will take them a long time to die,” he comments. “Starvation is no quick end. Maybe some of those humans will even manage to survive … you would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Fuck. You.”
“Still not interested,” he says.
I face forward again.
“Then again, I’m not sure I want to be so merciful to you humans. I really wouldn’t want another Ana surviving my wrath—one is plenty enough.”
I twist in the saddle once more to openly glare at him. Only moments after I do so, the ground seems to shudder, and I have to grab onto the horseman to brace myself. He gives me an arch look at the action. Behind him, the sky clears, the insects dispersing in a matter of minutes.
I don’t see his awful plants sprout, and I don’t hear the pained cries of thousands of people who’ve been caught in their clutches, but I know it’s happening all the same.
I don’t have it in me to be horrified any longer. It’s just one more atrocity to add to the long list of them he’s committed since I first saw him in Laguna.
And if I’m to travel with him, then I better get used to this horseman’s perversions. I’m afraid I’m going to be seeing a lot more of them soon enough.
Chapter 18
“I’ll stop three times per day,” the horseman says hours later, when he’s pulled his steed off to the side of the road. “You’ll have to do all your humanly business then.”
“What if I need to go to the bathroom more often than that?” I say.
“That’s not my problem,” he says, leaning back against a nearby tree.
All around us are thickly forested mountains, the terrain broken up by the occasional homestead.
“I hope you know that I will pee on you in the saddle if I have to,” I say. “I have no problem with that. You may even like it too … if that’s your kink.”
But let’s be real, bathing in the blood of innocents is Famine’s real kink.
The horseman glowers at me. “I’m hauling you onto this horse in the next few minutes, whether you’ve relieved yourself or not; I’d suggest you stop wasting your time.”
Fun as it would be to make good on my own threat, I’m not that petty. I mean, if I had a change of clothes, then I might be, but for now … that scenario will have to remain hypothetical.