Page 129

Awesome, I’m debating with myself. Pretty sure that makes me certifiably crazy.

“Have you thought about it?” I ask Pestilence, rather than addressing his comment.

“I have.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say more.

“And?” I finally prompt.

“And I find the possibility …thrilling.”

It thrills him? My lady parts are waaaay too happy about that.

“As you might imagine,” he says, “my excitement greatly disturbs me. I amkillingyour kind. What happens if I am father to one?”

I really want to clear my throat because, uh, dude’s also banging one, and isn’t that reason enough?

“It could be immortal,” I say, though I’m more asking this than anything else.

“It could be,” he agrees, and my stomach bottoms out at that.

I could give birth to a deity-thingy. A godspawn.

Nope. Nope, nope,nope. Noooooooooope.

This conversation is quickly going from uncomfortable waters to my-vagina-is-mutinying-it-doesn’t-matter-that-you’re-sex-on-legs-well-okay-maybe-it-does-a-little-nevermind-my-vagina-is-cool-with-it.

That’s what happens when you’re upsettingly pretty. My libido gets stupid—correction,stupider(because let’s face it, on a normal day my libido is still a bimbo).

“But it could also be mortal. Human,” he says. “And I will have created it, I who have been tasked with the destruction of your kind.”

That boy out there has seen a lot of human nature, the bulk of it ugly. He’s only now seeing the beauty of it, and largely through you. … Show him humanity is worthy of redemption.

Ruth’s final words ring in my ears.

Pestilence is straddling two warring natures—his divine one, which demands we all die, and his mortal one, which doesn’t want to kill us, perhaps it even wants tosaveus … And each day that he’s with me, his mortal nature strengthens.Iam strengthening it. The thought fills me with no little wonder.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” I ask.

His lips brush the shell of my ear. “What shall come to pass is to be seen. One thing is certain: I cannot stay away from you.”

My stomach clenches at that.

Nor I you.

I’m debating whether I should state my opinion when Pestilence’s hold tightens on me. I look up to him, but he’s staring ahead of us.

I follow his gaze, and my eyes widen. In the distance, between the boarded up buildings that speckle the sides of the highway, is a sea of people all dressed in white.

As we get closer, I stare in wonder at the hordes of them. They line the street, their bodies bowed in supplication.

Bowed for Pestilence.

They waited for him, willingly giving up their lives for this demonstration.

I glance at the horseman just in time to see his upper lip curl in disgust. “Praying to false idols,” he says. “They deserve the plague that will take them.”

Did I think even a second ago that I was making inroads on his bloodlust? Apologies, I was mistaken.