Page 2 of Famine

And then I see him, the Reaper.

He sits astride his coal black horse, his bronze armor shining so bright that it nearly obscures the huge scythe strapped to his back. He comes to a stop in the middle of the battered highway that bridges the two sides of my city.

Even this far away, my breath catches, and my eyes actually sting. I can’t say what I’m feeling, only that my professional façade is slipping away at the sight of Famine.

He’s more otherworldly than I remembered.Even after revisiting the memory of him over and over again, the sight of him in the flesh is startling.

Next to me, Elvita sucks in a shocked breath.

The Reaper—so named for the scythe he carries—and his horse are still as statues. He’s too far away for me to make out those piercing green eyes of his or his curling hair. But I can tell he’s taking us all in. I can’t imagine he’s much impressed.

After several long minutes, Famine nudges his steed into action, and his horse begins to trot down the bridge. People toss flowers into the road, littering the path with brightly colored blooms.

Ever so slowly he gets closer and closer to me.

My heart is thundering.

And then he’s passing me by, looking like a god. His hair is the color of melted caramel, his sun-kissed skin only a shade or two lighter. There’s the sharp, chiseled line of his jaw, the high brow and cheekbones, and the haughty curve of his lips. Most striking of all are those moss green eyes of his. Devilish eyes.

His shoulders are broad, and that bronze armor, embossed with spiraling floral designs, fits snugly against his powerful, sculpted physique.

Up close, his beauty is a shock to my system.

Far, far more otherworldly than I remembered.

Despite Famine’s handsome features and my own breathless excitement, the first true tendrils of fear take root.

Should’ve left with the others, reunion be damned.

Famine doesn’t see me as he passes; his gaze never wavers from the street ahead of him. I feel a wave of relief, followed, quizzically, by a hint of disappointment.

I stare after him and his horse as the rest of my town cheers, acting like this isn’t the end of our world when it so obviouslyis.

I stare until he’s far out of sight.

Elvita grabs my arm. “Time to go, Ana.”

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 …”