Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 10

Present

Even now I taste bile as I recall the memory.

“You,” the horseman says. His gaze searches mine. “I had wondered …”

“What happened to me?” I say, finishing his sentence for him. “I survived.”

“I’m glad.” Famine takes a deep breath, the action jostling my blade. He settles himself into his chair, like he’s getting himself comfortable; it’s clear that whatever memory he has of me, he thinks it’s going to spare him.

My anger rises like the tide. “How I hate you,” I whisper.

“And yet you haven’t dragged the knife across my throat,” he says.

“Is that a dare?” I whisper against his ear.

My hand itches to do that very thing. To see his immortal blood spray from his neck. To see his pain. That’s why I’m here. Revenge. There’s nothing else left for me.

“Do it, flower,” he taunts, echoing my thoughts.

“Don’t call me that.”

I dig the blade in, the endearment only making me angrier.

Finish this, I urge myself. Still, I hesitate.

It’s just that I’ve never killed anyone before.

Would it technically be killing if the horseman didn’t die?

I should definitely find out. I owe it to Elvita, to my aunt and my cousins to find out.

I press the knife in deeper, watching as more blood slips over the blade.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” Famine says, his voice casual. I can feel him staring at me as though he’s committing my features to memory. That angers me too.

“Shut up.” I take a deep breath, gathering up my courage.

The horseman looks vaguely amused when he says, “You do realize I could stop you if I wanted?”

That causes me to pause.

The horseman openly smirks. “Girl, have you no memory of my capabilities?”

I meet his gaze.

One moment I’m in control, and in the next—

The floor bucks, the hardwood splintering beneath my feet. I’m thrown to the side, my shoulder hitting the wall. By some miracle I manage to keep my hold on my dagger. I can hear Famine’s chair scrape back, and then he grabs me.

Pure instinct has me thrusting my blade forward, the point of my dagger burying itself into his chest. Famine grunts at the intrusion, grimacing as he glances down at the hilt jutting from his abdomen.

I let out a surprised yelp.

Shit, I stabbed him. I actually stabbed him. I stare, horrified, at the weapon protruding from his flesh. The satisfaction I was supposed to feel never comes.

The Reaper grimaces. Wrapping a hand around the hilt, he drags the dagger out and tosses the bloody blade aside.

I reach for my other weapon, but the Reaper grabs me by the throat and hauls me over to the table, slamming my body against the polished surface, his scythe trapped beneath me.

Famine’s pelvis grinds into mine as he pins me in.

“Foolish—little—flower,” he clips out, leaning over me.

I reach again for the holstered dagger at my hip. The Reaper beats me to it, his hand skimming down my side as he pulls the weapon out. He tosses it aside then grabs at the longer blade strapped to my chest, giving it a cursory look before chucking it far out of reach.

Just like that, the last of my grand scheme is gone. For the third time in my life, I’m at the whim of the horseman.

“This was your plan?” he grits out, some of his blood dripping onto my chest. “To come here and kill me? You make a worse killer than you do a whore.”

I spit in his face.

In response, he squeezes my throat tighter.

“Unless, of course, you didn’t want to kill me,” he says, searching my gaze. “You’ve seen that I cannot die, and you know what I’m capable of. Surely you’re not stupid enough to think you could end me—”

Somewhere in the mansion, a door opens.

He casts a hateful glance towards the sound. I use that moment to draw my leg towards my chest, and then I kick out, ramming the fucker in the gonads as hard as I can.

Famine lets out a pained grunt, releasing me to cup himself, and I use the distraction to dash from the room.

Get out get out get out.

I leap over the dead body, round the corner—

A man stands in the way.

Shit.

His eyes widen a fraction when he sees me. I try to stop my momentum, but I slam into him anyway, the two of us going down in a tangle of limbs.

I’m desperately trying to extricate myself when I hear Famine approaching. Before I can get to my feet, the man on top of me is kicked off of my body. The Reaper’s scythe goes to his throat.

“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 was ever going to listen.

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

“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 will continue to 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.

Then again, maybe he’s simply drawing this out.

Famine jerks me into an empty room. Tossing me inside, he kicks the door shut behind us.

I hit the ground hard, my teeth clicking together. The Reaper stalks after me.

I scramble backwards, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped in this room with an unearthly monster.

For a split second, the two of us stare at each other—hunter and hunted.

He’s going to kill me. I can see in his eyes just how much he hates us, how much he enjoys snuffing us out one by one. He’s still holding the scythe, along with the rope he grabbed.

Famine kneels down at my side, that painfully beautiful face of his illuminated by nearby oil lamps. As he does so, blood drips from his chest, where I so recently stabbed him. My gaze moves to his neck, which is also smeared in blood. Despite his earlier words, I did manage to hurt him.

The horseman grabs one of my wrists, and maybe it’s his touch or the look in his eyes, but the hairs along my arm stand on end.

“Let me go.” I jerk my arm against him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

He grabs my other wrist, pressing my two arms together before he begins winding the rope around my wrists.

“What are you doing?” I struggle against him. Once again, it’s absolutely useless. He seems to have unnatural strength.

“I’m subduing you,” he says. “I thought that was obvious.”

Famine finishes winding the rope around my wrists, his expression placid. He leans back on his haunches and appraises me. “Will you try to kill me again?”

I pause in my struggle.

That’s what this is about? He doesn’t want me to get violent with him again?

I wait too long to answer.

A corner of his mouth curves up. “As I thought,” he says, taking my silence as a yes.

In all fairness, if given the chance, I will definitely try to incapacitate him again.

The horseman spends the next moment taking me in.

“For a man who’s scared of pussies,” I say, “you’re spending an awfully long time looking at me.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Tell me,” the Reaper says, leaning back on his haunches, “if you were in my shoes—if a girl who once saved you then tried to kill you were suddenly your prisoner—what would you do?”

This is the part where I die. Painfully. I did in fact squander my second chance at life.

I glare up at the horseman, defeated. “I can’t say,” I respond bitterly. “I’m not a monster.”

Those unnerving eyes continue to assess me.

“I have never made an exception for a human before,” he admits, “and I’m loathe to make one now.”

I can hear the but coming.

“But I’m afraid there has only ever been a single instance where a human saved my life. It, unfortunately, has made an impression on me.” He leans in close. “That should worry a feeble little flower like you.”

Don’t worry, buddy, it does.

He gets up, his green eyes still on me. “We’ll talk again in the morning.” Famine heads out of the room, but pauses when he gets to the doorway. “Oh, and if you try leaving this place, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

My mind flashes to the bloody body in the living room and the mass grave outside. I might be brash and defiant, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to attempt an escape tonight. Famine is not exactly a man to test.

The horseman eyes me up and down. “You really should’ve stayed away. You may still be that same little flower who saved me, but then, I’m not known for letting flowers grow …”