Famine by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 2

Long before Famine and his black steed ever set foot in Laguna, we knew he was coming. It would’ve been impossible not to.

In the weeks prior to his arrival, dozens—then hundreds, then thousands—of people made their way up the highway and through our city. The women I worked with at The Painted Angel joked about walking bow-legged for weeks after the influx of new clients. At the time.

But then some of these newcomers began to talk. They mentioned fruit withering on the vine and strange plants that could crush full grown men, and the very air itself seeming to change.

“Fucking crazy-ass bastards,” Izabel, one of my closest friends, had muttered after hearing the rumors.

But I knew better.

And then Famine had sent an envoy ahead of himself to make demands of our town. The horseman wanted casks of rum. Jugs of oil. Garments and gold and food and a grand house to stay in.

I shouldn’t even know this much. I probably wouldn’t either, had Antonio Oliveira, the town’s mayor, not been a regular customer of mine.

Elvita and I walk in silence. I’m not sure what’s running through her head, but the closer we get to the mayor’s house—the home Famine will be staying in during his visit—the more unease settles low into my belly.

I should be packing up and fleeing, just like I made my friends at the bordello vow to do.

Elvita finally breaks the silence. She clears her throat. “I hadn’t expected him to be so …”

“Fuckable?” I finish for her.

“I was going to say well-fed,” she says drily, “but fuckable works too.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “You were hoping to throw me at some emaciated bag of bones?” I say. “I’m offended.”

She snorts, daintily. Everything she does is dainty and feminine, all of it meant to lure men in, even though these days, she rarely beds clients herself. That, she saves for the rest of her girls.

Like me.

“You screwed Joao,” she says, “and he was the closest thing to a skeleton I’ve ever seen.”

An unbidden memory of the old man comes to mind. He was little more than a bag of bones, and his plumbing was next to useless.

“Yeah, but he sent me flowers every day for a week and told me I looked like a goddess,” I say. Most customers couldn’t give a shit about my feelings. “I’d screw him until Kingdom Come for that alone.”

She swats me, stifling a grin.

“Oh, don’t act like you wouldn’t gobble up every cent that man was willing to throw at you,” I say.

“God rest his soul, I would.”

At the mention of God, I sober up. I crack my knuckles nervously.

It’s going to be alright. Famine doesn’t hate you. This might work.

This will work.

The rest of the walk is spent mostly in silence. We wind through the streets of Laguna, passing sagging homes and faded storefronts, the plaster chipped in most places.

Other residents are walking the same way we are, many of them carrying offerings.

I didn’t realize so many people knew where the horseman was staying …

Assuming, of course, that they’re headed his way. That’s where we’re going. And here I’d hoped that simply showing up at the Reaper’s doorstep would be enough to grab his attention.

Eventually, the worn, weathered homes and broken cement streets of Laguna end. There’s empty space, and then in the distance, a hill rises, and on it rests the mayor’s house, overlooking the glittering water.

We approach the old Oliveira mansion, with its red tile roof and blown glass windows. For as long as I can remember, the mayor and his family have lived here, amassing a fortune on the ships that move goods up and down the coast.

Up close, the home’s opulence is even more striking—there’s a cobblestone drive and a manicured yard and …

There’s already a line of people congregating near the door.

Motherfucker.

There goes my edge.

Just as we head up the front drive, the home’s double doors bang open. Two men drag Antonio out, his face bloody. He shouts obscenities over his shoulder as he struggles against the men.

I stop walking altogether, my lips parting in shock.

The men holding Antonio cart him around the building. Not even a minute later, Antonio’s wife and two daughters are hauled out after him. His wife wails, and it’s like nothing I’ve heard. Their children are sobbing and crying out for their mother.

No one does anything. Not the people in line, not even me and Elvita. I don’t think anyone knows what to do. That would require understanding what’s going on, and that’s anyone’s fucking guess at this point.

I meet Elvita’s startled gaze.

I’m not sure the madam’s plan is going to work after all. My eyes return to where I last saw Antonio and his family.

But if her plan doesn’t work …

I’m afraid what failure will look like.

Reluctantly Elvita and I step up to the back of the waiting line of visitors. A few of them have broken away from the line and are hustling off the property.

I stare after them, thinking they’re the most sensible ones out of the lot of us. But even as they flee back the way they came, more people are heading towards us from the city.

We might still have time to pack up and leave. I could forget about having my moment with Famine. Maybe it’s not too late for me and Elvita …

The sentiment only deepens when I hear several screams come from the back of the property. The hairs on my arms stand on end.

I turn to Elvita, opening my mouth.

She stares straight ahead. “It’ll be fine,” she says resolutely.

Years of listening to this woman have me shutting my mouth, even as a hard knot of dread grows within me.

The men who dragged the Oliveira family away a moment ago now return empty-handed, the Oliveiras nowhere in sight. Most of these men re-enter the house, but two of them move to stand in front of the doors, their faces grim. My eyes scour their dark clothing and the exposed skin I can see. There are wet patches that I swear are blood splatter …

A knock comes from the inside of the door. One of the guards opens it, stepping aside.

One of the people in line ahead of us is ushered inside. Then the door closes once more.

Over the next twenty minutes, the people ahead of us in line enter the house one by one. None of them leave out the front doors—if they leave at all.

What is going on in there? The damnable, curious part of me wants to know. The rational, spooked side of me wants to get the hell out of here. I still haven’t seen Antonio or the rest of his family, and I’m legitimately worried—not just for them, but for the rest of us as well.

Elvita must have realized I was a flight risk because she took my hand ten minutes ago, and she’s held it tight ever since.

Eventually, we’re the next in line.

My pulse races as I wait. I dart a glance at one of the guard’s forearms. What looked like a line of moles from far away now looks alarmingly like blood.

Oh God—

A knock comes from inside the house, and a moment later the door opens. Both guards step aside, allowing Elvita and me to enter.

I … just can’t get my feet to move.

My boss gives my hand a tug. “Let’s go inside, Ana.” She says it sweetly enough, but her eyes are sharp and her eyebrows are arched just so. I’ve received enough orders from her to know this is yet another one.

I wet my lips, then force myself to step over the threshold.

This is the reunion you’ve spent years imagining, I reassure myself.

It’ll be okay.