Page 17 of Famine

“Forgive me, human,” he says, “but you all look soverysimilar.”

It’s supposed to be an insult, but I’m beyond insults. So far beyond them.

After a moment, however, a spark of recognition sharpens his features and his brows lift. “You were the girl whose flesh was offered to me—weren’t you?” he says. “My, what a difference face paint makes.”

Another insult.

My grip on his hair tightens, and I press the dagger a little deeper into his neck. He doesn’t react, but I swear he’s agitated—very, very agitated.

His gaze scans over my body. “And you’re still breathing,” he notes. “Did one of my men succumb to your pitiful wiles and spare you?”

My blade bites into his skin now, drawing out a line of blood. After years of enduring men’s demands of me, it isawfullynice to push my will onto someone else, and I cannot think of a more deserving creature to endure it.

The Reaper takes in my expression. After a moment, he laughs.

“I’m sorry, am I supposed to be scared?” He sounds so calm that I almost believe him. But his arms are tense, his muscles taut. And then there’s the memory of the last time we met. For all the suffering he inflicts, I don’t think he has much taste for it when it comes to himself.

“You still don’t truly remember me,” I say. “Think further back.”

“What is thepointof this exercise?” Famine says, exasperated. “I don’t make it a habit of remembering humans.”

I loosen my hold on his hair just a fraction. “Isavedyou once, back when no one else would.”

“Did you now?” Famine says, amused. But unlike his expression, his eyes glint with anger. I sense that he’s biding his time, waiting for me to screw up before he pounces.

“It’s a mistake I’ve regretted every day since,” I admit, my throat tightening.

“Is that right?” he says, and now I swear heisentertained. “And tell me, brave human, how did you save me?”

“You don’t remember?” I say, actually somewhat shocked. How could he ever forget? “It was raining when I found you. You were covered in blood and your body was missing … pieces.”

Slowly, Famine’s shitty little smile melts away.

Finally, the reaction I was looking for.

My grip on his hair tightens again. “Remember me now, motherfucker?”

Chapter 8

Five years ago

Anitápolis, Brazil

I don’t believe the rumors. Not until I see him.

For the last couple years, there had been whispers in my town of the immortal man who raised the seas and split the earth. The horseman who came to our land and tried to cross us humans. Rumor was that he was caught and, as punishment, locked up somewhere in the vast Serra do Mar. Somewhere near our town.

I hadn’t given the rumor much thought until now.

Through the torrential downpour, my eyes snag on a lump laying off to the side of the dirt road.

Don’t look too hard.

I know I shouldn’t. I know that once my mind pieces together what I’m seeing I’m not going to like it. But it’s impossible to look away. My shoes squish against the mud as I close in on the thing. Eventually I realize I’m staring at a muddy, bloody torso. One that’s been mutilated nearly past the point of recognition.

My breath comes fast, and I nearly drop my basket of jabuticabas, the dark fruit rolling perilously around.

Who could’ve done this to another human?