Page 176 of Famine

Just want to go back to sleep …

BANG!

My eyes snap open as Famine kicks down a door, and a moan slips from my lips as pain shoots through me.

The Reaper glances down at me, frowning deeply.

Something catches his attention and he looks up.

“I need a doctor,” he demands.

There’s murmuring, but I’ve already stopped listening.

I turn my head inward, nestling as best I can against Famine’s chest. In response, his arms tighten around me protectively.

He says something else, his angry voice coming out to play.

Going real well for you, I want to joke, but I feel too shitty to tease him, and besides, sleep is dragging me under again …

My eyelids flutter open and closed, open and closed, as I’m roused from sleep again and again. I can hear Famine’s disgruntled voice and a few of his threats, and then there are the alarmed voices of the humans closing in around us.

If this is his version of help, I’m as good as doomed.

But shortly after that thought crosses my mind, Famine is ushered somewhere. He carries me the entire time, and I can’t be light, but he doesn’t seem bothered by my weight.

I lean my forehead against his armor, weak and tired. In response, he presses a kiss to my hair.

Things are beginning to get bad for me. I can tell because my lips are cracking and my eyes feel like they’re cooking themselves and yet my teeth are chattering and I can’t stop shaking.

Famine’s grip has become almost painful, but I don’t have the energy left to say anything.

And amongst it all is the sensation of many, many curious eyes peering at me.

My eyes slip closed, and when they open again, we’re inside someone’s house, Famine carrying me down a narrow hallway.

Then he’s laying me down on a bed.

I cling to him. I have this nonsensical fear that the moment I let him go, I’m not going to be safe anymore.

“Little flower,” Famine says softly, so softly, “you need to let me go.”

Reluctantly, I do, opening my eyes long enough to see him. “Please don’t leave me.”

He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I won’t.” The Reaper says this like he’s swearing an oath to me.

Now that I have his word, I relax. The bed is soft and I feel so terrible that it’s easy to slip off to sleep.

I’m not sure how long I drift for. It could be minutes or hours …

“Why is she deteriorating so quickly?” Famine’s voice sounds far away.

I fall back to sleep before I hear the answer.

I wake to the feel of a wet cloth against my forehead. I crack my eyes open and see the Reaper peering down at me, his hands on the cool material. Over his shoulder someone else holds a basin of water. I give both of them a tired smile.

“Ana—” the Reaper begins, but I’m already fading away.

I wake again to the feel of foreign hands on me. They don’t feel right. They’re dry and calloused and they’re moving my body around like I’m a puppet.