Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,63
Famine. His eyes flick up to me, but his mind is clearly elsewhere.
Stop him. Now.
I step right up to the horseman, and I slam my knife down on Famine’s prone hand with as much force as I can muster. It cuts through flesh and muscle, the blade pinning the horseman to his chair.
Immediately, the earth stops shaking and the fissures halt.
Famine sucks in a sharp breath as I stagger away. He shifts his attention to the wound.
I can hear nothing aside from my own ragged breathing as I wait for him to react.
After several long seconds, the Reaper’s eyes lift, meeting mine. I expect to see anger in them; instead, I see betrayal.
“That was a mistake,” he says he says softly.
Beneath me the floor cracks open once more, and a sharp, vined thing rises from the depths. I only have time to register that at least his ire is now focused on me before the plant wraps itself around me, squeezing and squeezing.
Desperately, I try to rip free from the plant, but the movement only seems to make it tighten its hold. Thorns bloom along the vines, poking me in a dozen different places.
At the sight, someone shrieks, and then it sounds like everyone is shouting. People begin to stampede once more, moving as fast as they can for the exits.
The Reaper lays his scythe across his lap, then reaches for the dagger he’s been impaled with. Calmly, Famine pulls the blade out from his hand, shooting me a considering look as he tosses it aside.
“No one’s going anywhere,” he says casually. Again, his voice seems to carry over the rising mayhem.
Thick, brambly shadows rise beyond the windows, growing and growing like looming specters. Someone in their desperate attempt to escape shatters one of the windows in front of these shadows, and it’s only then that I realize that what I’m seeing outside are bushes—bushes that have grown so dense and tall that they effectively block off the exits.
Outside, the sky flickers, backlighting these plants. An instant later, thunder booms overhead.
Famine stands, grabbing his scythe and spinning it in his hand like he’s getting familiar with its weight. His bronze armor flickers and shines under the candlelight as he moves.
“Come now,” he says to the panicking room. “The party is only just getting started.”
The earth trembles again, and the floor all but crumbles apart. Dozens and dozens of plants rise from the depths, ensnaring person after person, until the entire ballroom seems to be a thrashing jungle of sorts. The screams are almost deafening as people struggle fruitlessly to get out.
I strain against my own plant that binds me tight, the thorns digging into my skin.
“Stop!” I beg the horseman.
Famine glances over at me, an angry glint in his eyes. “You I’ll deal with later.”
He faces the crowd of trapped guests, his attention eliciting another round of petrified screams. Everything about Famine in this moment is menacing—his body, his weapon, his expression.
Outside, lightening continues to flash and thunder continues to boom. Within seconds rain begins pattering on the corrugated iron roof, getting louder by the second.
Slowly the horseman stalks forward, making his way towards a large man with heavy jowls who’s bound up in a squat tree. I see the man struggle to get away, but it’s useless.
The horseman grasps the man’s face, his fingers digging into his cheeks. “Do you want me to stop?” the Reaper asks. I can barely hear him over the pounding rain and the shouts and sobs echoing through the room.
The man nods vigorously.
Famine studies him. “Hmmm … And what would you be willing to do to make me stop?” he asks.
The man squirms under his gaze. “I-I’ll do anything.”
“Will you now?” Famine says. The Reaper glances over at me and arches a brow, like this is some inside joke.
“Are you sure about that?” the Reaper presses, his attention returning to his victim.
The man is visibly sweating, but he manages a nod.
“Alright,” Famine says. “I’ll stop.”
The man looks relieved.
“But.”
I tense. Here it is, the barbed offer I’ve come to expect from the horseman.
“If you want me to save all these people,” Famine says. “I need something from you.”
Famine might be a divine creature, but right now, he sounds like the devil of old.
“Anything,” his captive says again.
“Your life for theirs,” the Reaper says.
My mouth goes dry. The horseman likes doing this—testing the limits of our humanity, all so that he can prove some point about how shitty humans really are.