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I turn on him, my anger rising. “So it’s still aboutyoursuffering is it? You’ve wiped out entire cities, but at the end of the day you were hurt. You want to know something? I hunted you down like a fuckinganimalbecause you deserve it. And I would do it again and again andagain.”

Would I though?A small, traitorous part of me isn’t so sure.

Undaunted by that thought, I continue. “You’re killing us allcruelly, and you hate us for it.”

He says nothing to my outburst, just sits there, studying me.

“Part of living,” I say, “is feeling pain, senseless pain.” I could tell him a thousand stories about the sheer unfairness of the world. But why bother? He doesn’t give a shit about our problems.

“I am what I am,” he says, resolute. He sounds almost … defeated. “I came here with a task, and I will see it completed.”

“Who gave you the task? God? The devil?” I throw my hand up in the air. “The fucking Easter Bunny? I thought you were Pestilence theConqueror, not someone’s goddamned errand boy!”

“Careful, human,” he warns, his voice dangerous.

“Careful? If you’re so frightened of my words, then shut me up.”

I went too far. I know that as soon as I’ve spoken.

Pestilence raises his eyebrows at my challenge. A second later, he rips off a section of the dusty sheet that covers the nearby couch. Getting up, he twists the linen in his hands. The action looks ominous.

He kneels in front of me, his eyes meeting mine. And then he shoves the linen between my lips.

Never in my life has someone tried togagme.

For a moment, I’m dumbfounded, but then the moment passes, and I’m a raging bull, dropping my mug of water and battling Pestilence as he ties the material securely behind my head. I don’t manage much more than slapping at his face before he grabs my shoulder and thrusts my head into the mattress. He presses his knee against my back.

I buck against him madly, trying to shake him off, but he’s more solid than simple flesh and blood, and my efforts get me nowhere.

Behind me I hear another rip, and then he’s grabbing my wrists and looping the material around them.

I’m shrieking into the makeshift gag.

“Oooooouuu muuufffuughhrrr!” I roar.

He binds my wrists tight. Once he’s finished, he sits me up and squats in front of me.

Mistake.

I lift my foot and slam it into his pretty-boy face.

He rocks back, catching my ankle between his hands. “Do I need to bind these too?”

“Ullll uuuuggghinnnn eeeenngggh ooooouuuuu!”

He holds my foot hostage, waiting for me like I’m a toddler having an unreasonable tantrum.

I give my foot a few useless jerks before I give up. This guy makes few empty threats, and I’m not all that interested in being completely restrained.

When I stop fighting him, he releases my foot, reaching a hand up to his face to rub it where I clocked him.

“You hit solidly for a human—I’ll give you that.”

“Uuuuugh oooo, aaaahuuulll.”

“I’m surprised you’re this mad; you’re the one who suggested silencing you.”

I shriek again.