Famine (The Four Horsemen Book 3) by Laura Thalassa

Author:Laura Thalassa [Thalassa, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lavabrook Publishing, LLC
Published: 2020-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

That evening I sit with Famine in Heitor Rocha’s grand dining room, fidgeting as the two of us wait for dinner.

“This is a bad idea,” I whisper to the horseman.

He leans back in his seat, slinging a leg over his knee. “Loosen up a little, flower.”

I open my mouth to fire back a retort when several of Heitor’s men enter the room, each carrying a platter of food. Heitor himself is nowhere to be seen.

So much for serving us.

“And where is your insufferable boss?” the Reaper asks, noticing Rocha’s absence. “I believe I asked him and not you all to serve me.”

One of the men mutters something vague about Rocha being in the next town over, making arrangements on the horseman’s behalf.

It’s more likely that Heitor is wherever the hell Heitor wants to be; not even Famine himself can make him do otherwise.

The Reaper glares at the men, but just when I think he’s going to grab his scythe and start gutting them, he leans back in his seat and lets them set the platters of food on the table.

“You there,” Famine calls, pointing to one of the men.

The man’s eyes move to the horseman. It’s not fear I see in those dark irises—more like caution. I guess that’s what you get when you’re used to working around sociopaths.

The Reaper gestures for him to come over, even as the other men set down their dishes and retreat back into the kitchen.

“What is it?” the man asks, moving towards Famine.

“Grab a plate. Sit.”

Maybe I was wrong earlier. Maybe Famine is planning on killing someone right now.

The man hesitates for only a moment, then he leaves the room, returning with a plate.

Tentatively, he sits across from us.

“Serve yourself,” the Reaper orders. “There’s plenty here, and I want you to try everything.” He sounds almost benevolent, like he himself made the dishes.

The guard eyes Famine for only a second or two before he reaches for each dish, putting a little of this and a little of that on his plate until it’s a heaping tray of everything.

“Now,” Famine says, “eat.”

It takes me longer than it should to realize that the horseman isn’t going to kill the man, like I assumed. He’s using him as a food tester, making sure that the dishes prepared weren’t laced with poison.

“And the wine—don’t forget to try that,” the horseman encourages.

The two of us watch the man in silence as he eats and drinks his way through the meal. The guard’s eyes are flinty as he does Famine’s bidding, but he polishes everything off.

When it becomes clear that he’s not going to keel over, the guard stands.

“I was hoping to eat with Heitor,” Famine says casually, and I’m impressed the horseman actually remembered the man’s name.

“I will let him know he was missed,” the guard responds. “I’m sure he regrets his absence.”

“Does he now?” Famine says.

The two men stare each other down. Eventually, the corner of the Reaper’s mouth curls into a lopsided smile. “You will find me Heitor, and you will bring him back here.

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