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“The same one I deserve?” I say.

“You were touched by the hand of God,” he responds smoothly.

Four more white-robed people stand in the middle of the road, obstructing our way. One of them is an older man with crazy eyes and ashen hair. Next to him are three youthful,beautifulwomen.

When we get close enough, the man steps forward, ushering Trixie to a halt. I can feel Pestilence seething at my back, but the horseman doesn’t try to get his mount to move again.

“I, the Prophet Ezekiel, come to you in our hour of darkness,” the man says. “I give unto you, the Conqueror, these three women to have and to hold.”

To have and to hold?

Ick.

Ezekiel looks so magnanimous about his offer too, like you should give him a cookie for the effort he went through to procure these women.

The holy roller comes forward, the women at his heels. Something dark and possessive rises in me at the way the women are looking at Pestilence. They seem a little too eager to be the horseman’s servants.

“What is this?” Pestilence asks, his gaze sweeping over the sea of robed men and women.

“We have long awaited your arrival,” crazy-eyed Ezekiel says.

Behind me, the horseman grunts.

“And them?” Pestilence juts his chin to the women.

“They are yours,” Ezekiel says.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” Pestilence asks, his brows pinching in confusion. Out of the six of us here, he’s clearly the only one who is not understanding the delicate subtext of this situation.

He wants you to take them to Bonetown. Obviously.

But I keep my mouth shut because I really want a now slightly uncomfortable Ezekiel to spell it out himself.

“Whatever it is you please,” the prophet (ha!) says smoothly. His eyes flick to me just as Pestilence tightens his grip on my torso. I see Ezekiel smother a frown.

Awww, was he hoping the horseman would trade up? Too bad Pestilence enjoys his old model just fine.

“If you were me, what would you do with them?” the horseman asks.

“It is not for me to assume,” the prophet says humbly. At least, he thinks he’s being humble and demure, with his eyes turned to the ground and his head bowed.

The women are beginning to fidget. I think all of them imagined this exchange going a little differently.

“And in return?” Pestilence presses. “What do you want in return for these women?”

I tense. The horseman is not seriously considering this, is he?

Ezekiel’s eyes rise. They glint with avarice. “I would hope that you might spare us,” His hand sweeps over the sea of people, “your most loyal followers.”

The horseman’s gaze scrutinizes the crowd. “Hmmm.”

The prophet looks thrilled at Pestilence’s deliberation.

Finally, the horseman’s attention falls once more to Ezekiel. “You presume a great deal, holding me up as you have,” Pestilence says, his voice calm.

Ezekiel’s face flushes.

“As for the barter,” the horseman continues, his voice hardening, “you wish to give me three humans in exchange for hundreds—do you think me a fool?”