Pestilence (The Four Horsemen #1)(62)

“Far better than losing your mind, memory by memory,” Ruth says. She shudders. “That’s how my own mother went. It’s awful enough to lose someone, but to watch death take them piece by piece until there is nothing left but a husk,” She shakes her head. “No, there are far worse ways to go than plague.”

“We mean to stay here for several days,” Pestilence says. “Sara will need a bed, and food, and water.”

Again, Pestilence seems to want to aggravate the elderly couple. His efforts, however, seem to be in vain. When their eyes move to me, their expressions are kind.

“That’s not a problem,” Rob responds. “As I said, mi casa es su casa.”

I take in Pestilence’s glowering profile when it hits me. No one’s ever just liked him before. Not until now. He doesn’t trust Ruth or Rob, because why should he? People hate Pestilence, the spreader of plague.

I grab the horseman’s hand, an action that draws the elderly couple’s eyes to me.

Ignoring them, I lean into Pestilence. “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

His eyes flick to our joined hands, then to my face. Without a word, his chair scrapes back and he unfolds all six-plus feet of himself.

Pestilence follows me back into the entryway. When I swivel to face him, he stands close, his clothes brushing against mine.

“What is it, Sara?” he asks, touching a lock of my hair, like he can’t help himself.

“These people are not trying to deceive you, Pestilence. They are genuinely excited you’re here.” Which is batshit crazy if you ask me, but hey, no one is asking, so—

“How do you know this?” he asks, not bothering to deny the fact that he’s skeptical.

I lift my arms helplessly. “I just do.”

He studies me, rubbing his jaw absently as he thinks on it. I try not to dwell on how sexy that small action is.

Finally, he nods. “Alright. I will … work to trust these people because you do.”

I take his hand again and squeeze it. I’m about to let it go when his grip tightens.

“Sara,” he says. His other hand joins the first; he clasps my hand like it’s a gift.

One look at his eyes has me quaking. His gaze is too deep, his face too sincere … whatever he’s about to say, my heart’s not ready for it.

I pull my hand from his and head back into the kitchen, not waiting for him to follow.

Several seconds after I take a seat, I hear his heavy footfalls. His eyes are locked on me as he sits. I can all but sense the words he needs to say, the ones I ran from.

His gaze lingers on me for a short while longer, but eventually his body relaxes, and he drapes an arm casually over my seatback. I swear every inch of me is acutely aware of that arm.

The entire time, Ruth and Rob watch us impassively. It makes my palms sweat, knowing what they might be seeing.

“So, what brings you to our home?” Ruth asks cheerily.

“Sara needs to rest and recuperate,” Pestilence says. I can feel his gaze everywhere. “The long days of travel take their toll on her.”

“Ah,” Ruth says, taking in his words and his demeanor. “And how about you? Will you need a bed?”

Pestilence lounges in his seat, his large legs splayed out. “I am Pestilence the Conqueror, the first of the Four Horsemen come to claim your world. I am eternal, and my task, unwavering. I do not require anything to sustain me.”

Alriiiight then.

Ruth raises her eyebrows pleasantly. “Well there’s an extra bed if you need. Now,” she says, getting comfortable in her chair. “How did you two meet?” She looks between the horseman and me as she takes a sip of her drink.

She’s a sly one, this Ruth. Pretending like she’s not mapping out my strange relationship with Pestilence.

“I attempted to kill the horseman,” I say.

Ruth sets down her tea, her mug clattering against the table, clearly shocked by the answer.

“I shot him with my grandfather’s shotgun,” I continue, “and then I lit his body on fire.”

Both of our hosts are at a loss of words.

Probably didn’t need to go into that much detail …

I guess Pestilence isn’t the only one trying to sabotage this couple’s hospitality.

“She’s my prisoner,” the horseman explains.

I grimace into my mug. The statement rings decidedly untrue to my ears.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you plan on doing with her?” Rob asks the question pleasantly enough, but I can tell he’s ready to throw Pestilence out if given the wrong answer.

I squeeze my cup a little tighter. I hadn’t expected strangers to care about me, especially ones who are actually eager to host a horseman.

“I’m keeping her,” Pestilence says.

Again, that look from the horseman. My stomach bottoms out, and I try to tell myself that it’s dread, but I can’t fool myself.

You’re anticipating what’s to come, Burns.

Neither Ruth nor Rob object to Pestilence’s answer, but I can see that it bothers them. Had I tried to kill a human—well, we have justice systems that deal with those sorts of crimes. But to punish me by keeping me prisoner … that’s just not done.

The horseman pushes his chair back and stands. “I need to attend to my steed. Entertain yourselves in my absence.”