Page 32 of Famine

“What did I tell you about staying away?” the Reaper says conversationally to what must be one of his guards.

“But—” The man’s eyes dart to me.

Faster than I can follow, Famine slices the man’s neck, blood spurting from his opened artery.

I scream at the sight. The man is still looking at me, his expression shocked and frightened as he reaches for his gaping throat.

Not how this evening was supposed to go.

Once more I frantically try to get up.

The horseman presses a booted foot to my chest. “You, I’m not done with.”

He raises his scythe back to his side, the blade now tipped in blood.

I close my eyes against the sight, and breathe in and out, trying not to completely lose it.

“What makes you think I won’t kill you right here and right now?” the Reaper says.

“I’m not afraid of death,” I say softly.

“Oh really now?” Famine sounds amused. “Then open your eyes and look at it.”

It’s the taunt in his voice that has me blinking my eyes. I glare up at him.

He tilts his head. “There you are. Let me look at you.”

If he weren’t so far away, I might’ve tried spitting at him again.

Famine takes his time. “I wondered if we might cross paths again. You should’ve told me who you were. I would’ve spared you.”

I guffaw. Like he wasevergoing to listen.

“But you didn’t,” I say. “Take a look at my chest and you’ll see for yourself that I wasn’t sparedanything.”

“Yet despite it all, you lived.” He scrutinizes me, as though he can hardly believe it. “Why find me and risk my wrath yet again?”

Something warm and wet touches my shoulder then spreads down my arm and up into my hair. I realize too late that it’s the dead man’s blood.

I grimace up at Famine, breathing through my nose to keep my emotions under control. “I wanted to hurt you.”

He raises his eyebrows. “My balls are sore, little flower, I’ll give you that.”

I feel my cheeks flush with anger even as the horror of my situation sets in. “Fuck you.”

The horseman presses his boot down harder against me. “You tried that already, remember? I still don’t want your pussy.”

This is all a joke to him. My pain, everyone else’s.

“You took everyone I loved from me the first time we met,” I whisper. “And then you did it all over again.”

He scowls. “That’s what I do, mortal. It’s what I willcontinueto do until I am called home.”

Famine takes me in for another second. Then, removing his boot from my chest, he reaches down and hauls me up. “I thought, however, that you were different from the rest of these parasites.”

Grasping me by the upper arm, he begins to haul me down the hall, pausing only to grab a length of coiled rope hanging from a mounted coatrack.

I struggle against him, letting out a frustrated noise when it gets me nowhere. For the life of me, I have no idea what’s going on. Famine has had several opportunities to kill me. He’s taken none of them.

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