War (The Four Horsemen, #2)(116)

That all changes, however, once I get far enough out. War’s formerly undead army is now stationed out here, far enough from the camp that the smell isn’t overpowering.

The hairs on my arms rise at the sight of all of them standing motionlessly. I can’t tell which way they’re facing, but it seems like they’re all watching me with those dead eyes.

A moment later the smell hits me. I place a hand over my nose, gagging a little. Five thousand dead bodies rotting away under the summer sun creates a stench. Even breathing through my mouth, I can still taste the fetid rot of them all, it’s so thick in the air.

It only gets worse as I close the distance between us. None of the zombies move; no one steps forward to stop me, and none of them turn their heads to watch me pass. And then I’m right up to the line of them. There’s enough space between the dead to walk by without rubbing up against them, but I still wait for someone to grab me. I expect it now after so many encounters with them.

When none of them do, I exhale.

That was too easy. The thought fills me with dread.

Now to find a road, any road. So long as it leads away from here, I’ll be fine.

It takes what feels like an eternity, but eventually I do come across a road. It’s only then that I chance a glance over my shoulder.

To my horror, about ten meters behind me, a zombie has left its comrades to follow me.

That’s when I begin to run.





Chapter 49


I don’t think I have much time.

I’m still not sure what bond the horseman shares with his undead soldiers, but I suspect he can sense the world through them. Maybe their bond is strong enough to wake him from sleep, or maybe a zombie is going back to wake him right now. I don’t know how they warn him, only that it’s inevitable that he will be warned—and sooner rather than later.

The dead soldier is still following behind me. He hasn’t closed the distance between us, but I’m not losing him either. I push my legs faster and faster.

I need to find a bike as soon as possible. Then maybe I’d stand a chance of losing the zombie, and thus, War.

Just the thought of the horseman is crushing.

It’s all the fault of my soft heart, as he would say. It hates this too. With every step I take, it shouts that I’m a fool to run, a fool to leave. It believes in the best of War, which is why I ignore it.

Hearts are proven to be idiots.

I haven’t made it a kilometer down the road before I stop running. I thread my fingers together over my head and take several deep breaths.

This was a bad idea. All of it—every single decision that led me here. Running, sleeping with War, allowing him to insert himself into my life. All of it.

I glance over my shoulder.

The zombie has stopped behind me. He seems to be waiting for me to make my next move.

Be brave.

My mantra crashes over me, and for once, I think about it in a whole new way.

I’ve assumed the entire time I’ve been with the horseman that I have been brave, but I haven’t. I’ve been denying and running from this terrible, heady feeling I get when I’m around him.

But there is no outrunning him or these feelings.

I need to face the horseman down—in love or in war. Even if it means the worst.

No more deeds done in the dark of the night. Whatever comes, I’ll face it head on.

In the distance I swear I can hear the pounding of hooves. Maybe it’s just my imagination.

I squint into the darkness, and no—there looks to be a figure on the road.

There’s only one other person confident enough to venture along these roads at night.

War and his steed manifest out of the darkness, Deimos’s deep red coat looking almost black right now.

The horseman pulls up short.

He looks at me, his eyes wild. “Where are you going?” His face is almost mad with panic.

Be brave.

“I was running from you,” I say.

His face crumbles. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on him before.

“Do you truly hate me that much?” he asks, his voice lowering with his emotion.

“I don’t hate you at all, War,” I say, the evening breeze tugging at my hair. “And I should, I really should.”

He stares down at me from Deimos, looking so tragic. The wind tugs at his own hair, and God, even cast in shadow, he’s magnificent. He could never pass for a mortal, not ever.

I put a hand over my stomach. For the second time today, the horseman notices the action … and again, it doesn’t register.

“Did you ever think about what would happen?” I say. “A human and an immortal get together, even though he’s sworn to kill her kind, and she’s determined to defend them? Did you ever think about the ramifications?”

War hops off his mount, moving slowly, like I might run if he makes any sudden movements. “Whatever it is that’s bothering you, we can fix it—I will fix it.” He takes several steps forward, stopping just short of me. “Hate me, curse me, just please come back to me, Miriam,” he says. His voice breaks. “Please, come back.”

He’s begging. And I’m trusting the universe to pull through for me because there are too many forces at work that are bigger than me.

I begin to nod, closing the distance between us.